Problem Child
by BigEvilShine
Summary: Working as a jailbreaker in Blackgate used to be easy but things change when the rogues take control. Bambi Dahl finds herself trapped in a criminal controlled prison with no way out, she must find a way to survive even if that means being buddy buddy with Gotham's Worst. Croc x OC
1. Chapter 1

_**/AN:**__ Takes place just a touch after the ending of Arkham Origins. I took some timeline liberties but as long as y'all don't play spot the difference it should still work. So this is my first fic, I hope everyone enjoys it genuinely or ironically__**/**_

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

It had been a little over a month since the Christmas Eve riots. January had come and gone with relatively little in house drama, but Blackgate wasn't the same. The air felt fragile, something dark had been building. The inmates were cautious and the guards worried about what they couldn't see. When it all came to a head, the riots were almost a relief. Blackgate fell within hours, any guards and staff that hadn't escaped ended up either mutilated and put on display or held hostage. This way the police barricade outside would choose whether to let the inmates and staff starve or send in food supplies. Blackgate became divided into Joker, Penguin, and Black Mask's territories. Each boss had a different facility to claim and the residents of those cellblocks could either join up or die.

Black Mask set up shop in the center control tower of his facility. Along with access to all staff offices, security feeds, files on every inmate within the building, he also had control over whose cells remain locked. The only way for someone to get out of their cell was to pledge loyalty to Black Mask. With his fondness for torture and irrational temper - that was a gamble.

At the time of the takeover I was housed in what became Black Mask's district. I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this wasn't the worst possible situation. I could be stuck under Joker's jurisdiction.

I'd spent the last week hiding out in my cell, only leaving to scrounge for food and soda from broken vending machines and steal unattended blankets. The heating to this building hadn't worked properly since the initial riots, and a Gotham winter was never an easy one. Everything I did was in an effort to remain unknown and forgettable, being the only female inmate in this side of the penitentiary was something I'd like to keep to myself. Wrapped up in a mountain of sheets up to my eyes, I spotted someone stalking the corridors. My body went stiff.

Black Mask spent his time either holed away in his control center or making public displays out of other poor bastards. I sat up on my cot, pressing back into the wall. I was locked in a cell; there wasn't exactly any place to run.

He stopped on the other side of my cell door. For a moment all he did was look me over, his masked face tilted to the side, considering. He turned his attention to the door, gripping a bar and shaking it. The door was unyielding, locked. Black Mask's eyes cut into me, narrowing.

"I'm curious…how have you been getting out?" he rasped, inclining his head. My stomach dropped, I looked everywhere but his eyes as my knees began to tremble. Shit. His gloved hand tightened on the iron bars.

"Nothing happens in this happy little family unless I say so. You're not allowed out of this cage, but you've been out anyways. How?" he asked quietly, eyes widening with threat. My fingers pulled at the fabric around me, throat going dry.

"I – I'm good with locks."

"Is that so. Even electronic locks," he remarked, glaring with poisonous eyes. I flinched. I knew leaving my cell was a violation of his control, but I honestly didn't think Black Mask would care. Didn't he have better things to do?

"Show me."

"What?"

"I said _show me_," he spat. Tumbling out of my blankets, I grabbed my crummy lock picking tools and knelt beside the door. 'Tools' was a pretty generous term, they were actually just bits of splintered metal, mostly broken off my cot's frame, and a Taser I'd snatched from a guard's body during the initial riot. The Taser was necessary for tricking Blackgate's electronic locking mechanisms; the metal pieces were for forcing the bits to move mechanically. Focusing more on ignoring the white suit within arm's reach, I had the door heavily clunking unlocked within minutes. Popping back up to my feet, I quickly backed away from the door. Black Mask ran a gloved hand slowly over the bars then slammed it open. I jumped back, bumping against the wall.

"Fast. You're talented," he entered the cell, blocking any exit. I shifted uncomfortably at his proximity, clutching my kit against my chest. "I need talented workers. And now that your secret's out," he stepped closer, one hand against the wall, caging me under him "you've got nowhere to hide from me." I paled, staring back at his glittering eyes. My stomach flipped. This was exactly what I didn't need, exactly what I'd been trying to avoid. I screwed my eyes shut, cringing as I felt his body heat.

"Y-yeah, okay," I whispered shakily. There was a breathy chuckle beside my ear. He'd won.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I sat on the floor in the corner of Black Mask's main 'office', fiddling with the heavy leather cuffs on my orange coveralls. This was bizarre, this whole situation. Well, more honestly my whole life had turned odd. I'd been in Blackgate before, a few times even. Due to a chain of painful events I now worked as a jail breaker. It was exactly as it sounded, I was hired to spring people from prisons, penitentiaries, psych wards, whatever. The simplest way to get targets out meant getting myself incarcerated. Under normal circumstances the target and I would've been out of Blackgate within days of my arrival, but I'd been placed in solitary for the first few weeks this time around. When I was back with the rest of the population I barely had time to breath before the riots started. Now with my target killed in the riots, the takeover, and 24-hour police blockade, I had little chance of a clean getaway. So here I was, stuck in an overcrowded prison with murderers, psychopaths, rapists, and super criminals.

Black Mask's higher ups were gathered in the room, each sporting gimpy masks to imitate their boss. Occasionally they shot me curious looks, but mostly kept to themselves with their boss around. Black Mask stood leaning over a desk, glaring down at what looked like blue prints. I blew my bangs out of my eyes. I'd been woken up by the buzzing of my cell door clunking open, one of Black Mask's men outside waiting to escort me up to the office. That was hours ago. Initially I'd been shivering, terrified, but had settled down to a constant worry.

"Boss? Who's the kid?" one of the thugs asked. I glanced up and snapped my attention back to my cuffs when I realized who they were talking about. Black Mask wasn't wearing his suit jacket, his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and gun holsters fully exposed.

"Who? Ah, she's a nobody. Now get out, I need to talk to a nobody." The thugs immediately filed out of the room, leaving me as the sole recipient of his attention.

"Forgot you were here. So quiet," he came around the desk, pulling a chair behind him as he approached. Turning the chair backwards, he straddled it and popped open a switchblade. I eyed the knife, gulping.

"Did you need something?" I croaked, failing to hide the quiver in my voice. The edge of the blade caught my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up to face him. There was a smile in his dark eyes.

"Look at that, such a sweet doll face under all those scars. Makes me jealous someone got to you first," he murmured, trailing the tip of the blade across the many raised red scars knotting over my face. My jaw tensed, this was a line of thought I'd rather avoid with this particular man.

He remained quiet, studying the shiny red slashes crawling down the side of my neck. He flipped the knife, eliciting a gasp from me then pressed the blade against the plump of my bottom limp.

"Did you know the files for every inmate in this section have backups in this office?" he asked softly, leaning forwards to study my lips. I tried to shift backwards, but a gloved hand shot forward and gripped the back of my head, forcing me back to the knife.

"I know about you, why you're here, how your pretty little face got so ugly," he hissed against my cheek, nicking my lips with the blade. A whimper bubbled out before I could stop it. He chuckled next to my ear.

"Please don't," I whispered past the knife.

"Hmm?" Black Mask slide the blade further into my mouth, drawing the edge against my tongue.

"Plea – please don't Sir," I begged, blood trickling past my lips as I spoke. His grip on my hair strengthened, an appreciative rumble emanated from his chest. His mirthful eyes met my teary ones.

"Good girl. I wish I could spend more time exploring you, but there's a reason you're here," he pulled the blade slowly from my mouth, dragging the edge against my tongue. I winced at the long shallow cut.

"There's someone I'm interested in bringing to my ranks. Such an interesting line of work you have, by the way. His cell's not under my jurisdiction otherwise I would've taken care this myself," he said, dropping my head and leaning back to rest his arms across the back of his chair. The blade snapped shut and disappeared into a pocket somewhere. I pressed my bleeding tongue against the roof of my mouth. He stood, moving back to his desk and motioning for me to join him. I clambered to my feet, quickly wiping away any tears, then made my way to his desk. He traced his hands over the blueprints, fingers running from our current location to the edge of his territory.

"He'll be underground, in one of the larger basement solitary cells between buildings here," he turned sharply to face me "got it?"

"Isn't that Joker's space?" I asked tentatively. His hand clenched into a fist.

"Why do you think I can't get him out myself?" he hissed. I stood up straight, leaning away from him.

"Right, sorry. I'll get him, let me look these over first," I apologized quickly. I didn't have time to react when he gripped my arms and spun me around. Metal bit into my stomach, tearing the fabric of my uniform as he pinned me against the desk. I floundered at his closeness, desperately wanting to shove him away, but knowing it would only make him more likely to rip me open. I settled for gripping the edge of the desk.

"If you can't, well then hurry back so we can have fun together," he sighed in my ear. A drop of blood trickled down my stomach. I nodded quickly, eyes screwing shut as I leaned away from him.

"Yes Sir."

"Good Girl."


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't waste time leaving Black Mask's office. Bolted would be a good way to describe it, really. I moved through the prison corridors with all the grace of a fainting goat. With no way to defend myself, short of wasting the battery life of my precious Tazer, I resorted to keep away. Whenever I heard anyone shuffling around I would take advantage of my small stature and duck behind or under the rubble littering the halls. I made it out of Black Mask's domain with little issue, unfortunately that left the Clown Prince's territory to deal with.

I didn't know much about the Joker. Sure I heard the rumors that he was responsible for ruining Black Mask's hold on Gotham overnight, that he'd done more damage Christmas Eve than the other mob bosses managed in almost two years. I'd seen him once during a riot batman had put an end to, and that was enough to convince me the rumors were true. There was something in that man's eyes, something poisonous. Now stalking through Joker's facility, I didn't doubt he was just as insane as anyone who would pledge fealty to him.

Moving down the staircase in a crouch, jumping at every sound, it occurred to me I'd never been told who I was supposed to be springing. He was in on of the larger solitary cells, so he'd be big and likely a threat. I repressed a groan. Everyone in here was huge and threatening.

Halfway down a hall full of open and empty cells, I heard laughter. I ducked, pressing against a crumbling wall as a group of three men appeared around the bend. Shifting behind a bent piece of rebar and broken concrete, I got an eyeful. Each wore either face paint or a crummy clown Halloween mask. The front two swung rusted pipes, loudly dragging them across the bars of the cells they passed. The third walked a bit slower behind them, toting a gun. I grimaced, folding myself lower behind the debris.

"You hear the cat's in here?"

"What? You're kidding me."

"Nah, but she ain't joinin' up with nobody. Says she's stayin' around to watch the fun."

"What the hell's that girl thinkin'? Don't she know curiosity killed the cat?" the group broke into laughter over the stupid joke, rounding a corner. A cat? Was there another gimmicky freak in this city? I waited until I couldn't make out what they were saying before shuffling out from behind the rubble.

The last two sets of stairs felt like descending into madness itself. The walls became covered in green graffiti of Joker's face and 'HA HA HA's, every now and then I'd come across a set of chattering teeth jumping across the floor, or an impeccably wrapped present sitting in the middle of the hall. I stayed as far from those as possible.

After breaking the lock into the solitary wing I was met with a set of eight unlocked doors and one locked vault. Vault may be a bit dramatic. It was twice as wide as the other doors and a good bit taller. I inspected the door. It was another electronic lock, just larger and sturdier. I knew from experience there was no access to the actual mechanism from within the cell. I took a deep breath. Of course, of course my target would be the scary bastard kept behind this big ass door. I rubbed my face for a moment, then broke out the kit I kept tucked in my coveralls.

"Ok. I can do this," I whispered, getting to work. I better be able to do this. The sting on my tongue and tear on the stomach of my coveralls were enough of a reminder what would happen if I failed. I'd managed to activate the lock, and was forcing the bars back when my tool snapped. For a moment I stared dumbly at the thick line of red welling up against my palm, blood drops rolling off my fingers and onto the floor. I grabbed at my chest, searching for another slim piece of metal to finish forcing the lock.

"Oh thank god," I whispered snatching out a pen. With minimal blood smearing I worked the bars back the last bit. Grabbing the latch I pulled back door and threw my weight into inching the bastard open. There was a sudden rush of humid air, bringing with it an odd smell – mildew and some kind of musk? Wrinkling my nose, I peered into the darkness beyond, pressing my sliced hand against my coveralls.

"Hello?"

No response.

Focusing, I thought I caught a brief scraping sound. I squinted, still unable to see more than ten feet in. "Black Mask wants to speak to you," I mumbled, not entirely sure if there really was anyone there. It was still, a hush fallen over the entire solitary wing. I glanced behind me, making sure nothing was there. Leaning forwards, hands braced on the door and frame, I listened intently. I was usually fine in the dark, I had to get used to it with how long I'd been locked in basements and solitary in my life. But the shiver still rolled down my back, hair on my neck rising. Maybe Black Mask had been wrong, or maybe Joker'd already gotten to whoever was supposed to been in this cell. "Is anyone in there?" I held my breath.

"Right here."

Wet air blew over my face. I shrieked, stumbling backwards. I whipped around and rushed blindly from the cell only to have my leg catch on a bent piece of rebar. Pitching forward I slammed my jaw into the ground, burning pain sprouted from my palms ripping against the broken concrete. I yanked myself forwards, gasping as the rebar tore into my thigh. A heavy hand landed on my calf and dragged me back across the ground on my stomach. I yelped, scraping my bleeding hands and nails in protest before being flipped onto my back.

"Mm, been a while since I smelled a woman," the words were mangled, produced from a throat seemingly not made for human speech. I trembled under the behemoth's grip on my leg. Looking up I could see nothing save luminescent yellow eyes, the rest of the beast fallen in shadow under the hall's harsh fluorescent lighting. Even with such little information, there was something very, very wrong with him. His size was inhuman, filling the hall with a body edge in spikes. He dropped my leg in favor of the front of my coveralls, lifting me to face him. Even with him in a crouch, my toes barely glanced off the floor. I grabbed at his hand and jolted at the bizarre scaly texture.

"What? Scared?" the scaly man lifted me closer, leaning in towards the junction of my throat and shoulder. He inhaled deeply. Now able to peer over his shoulder, I felt my throat go dry. Broader than any man, weighed down with cords of shifting muscle, and covered in dark green scales, shining like glass. My grip on his bandaged wrists tightened. Waylon Jones.

I'd just sprung Killer Croc.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Waylon Jones had become fairly notorious since his involvement with the Christmas Eve incident. Besides Joker he was one of the most visually shocking criminals most people had ever seen. I'd caught sight of him in transit around Blackgate once. That glimpse was enough information I needed to know he was to be avoided at all costs if I wanted to make it out of this penitentiary alive.

Now, balancing on my tiptoes as Waylon crouched over me, breathing in my scent, I knew I'd done a shit job of that.

"Black M – Mask sent me. He – "

"He sent me a snack?" he growled. I gasped, shuddering as something hot and wet rolled across my collarbone.

"No! He told me to break you out! He wants to talk," I took my hands from his wrist and began pushing on his massive chest, realizing those rumors about cannibalism might have a bit of truth to them.

Waylon snarled, leaning back sharply and grabbing my injured left hand.

"What's he want with me?" he asked, inspecting the bleeding digits as I frantically tried to get out of his grip.

"Blackgate's under inmate control now, he wants you on his side, don't – " I shrieked as Croc slid my palm against his teeth. My wet eyes met his luminescent yellow " – please. I need that," I whispered lamely. He rolled his eyes, running his tongue over my bleeding palm despite my squirming.

"You work for Black Mask?" he continued to run his teeth over my fingers.

"Yes, I can take you to him. Please," I whimpered, face wet with tears. Waylon grimaced then dropped me; I collapsed onto my backside, quickly scrambling to my feet. Waylon rose from his crouch, unfurling to his almost nine foot full height. I pressed my somewhat slobbery hand to the front of my now shredded coveralls.

"You're all bone anyways. Take me to him."

I furiously scrubbed the wetness from my face, again, and checked that my leg wasn't bleeding too badly before I began the journey back to Black Mask's headquarters. Killer Croc remained a few feet behind me at all times, breathing deeply. It was unnerving but aside from worried glances to make sure he wasn't too close there was very little I could do. Even then, I doubted I could make a run for it if he suddenly found me expendable. Along with a well-formed physique, which elicited uncomfortable thoughts, his legs were almost as long as I was tall.

The trek back was much easier than I thought it would be. We came across a group of Joker's men, four guys all with guns or steel pipes, and they all just gawked before backing away. It wasn't until we passed them that I realized I was holding my breath, a cold sweat dampening the lower back of my coveralls.

"Anyone ever tell you how good you smell scared?" the man behind me smirked. My shoulders tensed, my steps going a little faster.

"Uh, sorry. Soap's hard to come by now," I mumbled, itching my neck anxiously. Waylon coughed a raspy breath, making me jump. That was a laugh. That was a laugh? I quickened my steps again, almost to a trot.

We made it to Black Mask's office without another incident, everyone backed away when they saw the walking dinosaur with me. If it weren't for the threat of getting ripped in half or eaten, I'd almost call the response reassuring. Getting waved in by one of the goons watching the door, and observing with utter fascination as Waylon almost folded himself in half to fit through the doorway, we now stood facing Black Mask. I stood ramrod straight, hands clenched at my sides. Waylon had to slouch over a bit to fit into the room comfortably. The masked mob boss leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, as he looked us over.

"You didn't eat her?" he asked. I grit my teeth. Bastard didn't tell me who I was supposed to spring on purpose.

"Better use as a toothpick than a meal," Waylon snorted, eliciting a chuckle from Black Mask. I blushed angrily, hunching my shoulders.

"Can I leave?" I asked, cutting off their condescending laughter. The mob boss glared at me.

"What? We boring you?" he snapped. Still feeling self righteous, I continued.

"I got him back here. What you two discuss isn't any of my business, I'd like to leave," I replied. The white suited mob boss remained quiet for a time. I could feel my resolve weakening. I hated when he didn't do anything but watch. There was something about his eyes, they were always dangerous but it went deeper. Whether it was madness or something worse I lacked the capabilities to understand it. He pushed off the desk, taking a step towards me.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well we wouldn't want to keep you from your busy schedule."

"Thank – " I choked on the rest of my words; he gripped my arm and threw me face first onto the desk. Black Mask gripped a handful of my hair, pulling my head back. Something cold bit into my neck.

"You know, I thought I'd made it clear what kind of position you're in, but I've always had a soft spot for women so maybe you misunderstood," he hissed, cheek bone of his mask digging into mine. My hands scrabbled at the desk, pushing papers and pens off as I struggled. His weight made me immobile, bruising my hips as he pushed them against the desk's edge. "So I'm going to make this as _clear_ as possible," he emphasized his words by pressing the blade harder against my throat "you are not valuable. You are alive only thanks to my good graces and every time you open that cut up little mouth you are _closer_ and _closer_ to falling out of my favor." I sobbed openly, biting my bottom lip to stop it from happening again. The knife repositioned at the junction of my jaw and throat, digging in till it bled. His fingers twisted my hair harder, more tears springing to my eyes.

"Now - stop crying - and listen to what I'm about to tell you," he snarled, standing and pulling me back against his chest "watch yourself Dollface. I'm the only one looking out for you in a bad, bad world. Don't make me an enemy," he stared down at my face, trailing the knife and his gloved fingers from my throat, dipping briefly past the collar of my jumpsuit. He continued to look into my eyes, his touch bordering on intimate, before slamming my face into the desk. I shrieked, falling to the ground momentarily blinded. Black Mask removed himself from behind me.

"You may be excused."

I climbed to my feet with the aid of the desk, holding my bleeding forehead and bolted from the office. I lumbered away, bouncing against the walls until I got to my cell. Now sobbing openly, I burned my fingers on the Tazer as I relocked the door behind me. Not bothering with washing my wounds I threw myself onto the cot, miserably wrapping the blankets around me. I mushed the dirty blankets against my blood and tear stained face.

After a few hours, my sobs and shuddery breaths calmed into self-loathing sniffles. This wasn't anyway to deal with the situation. I was alive. Black Mask had said to my face he would kill me, and I was still alive. Maybe I was assuming him too sane, but there had to be a reason I wasn't dead yet. Whether he wanted to admit it or not I was useful. Maybe I would have to live under his sovereign rule, but it was a matter of time before I'd figure a way out of this situation. I always did. There wasn't an institution on this planet that could hold me; I wouldn't be pinned under a man's rule for long.

I slept heavily that night, only waking briefly from a dream of Killer Croc's toothy smile outside my cell door growling, "I've got your scent" before I drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I stayed in bed as long as I could. Eventually I got around to bathing behind a sheet I'd erected over half my cell for modesty's sake. I frowned at the large gash in my leg from the rebar. Was I up to date on Tetanus shots? Was that how that worked or would I need one now to not get Tetanus? Grumbling I changed into spare underclothes then got to work scrubbing my dirty clothes in the sink. I had a few sets of under wear and under shirts but this was my only jumpsuit. I huffed, glaring at myself in the unbreakable safety mirror. It reflected about as well as polished plastic, but I could see enough. On top of the countless old red scars that marked my body like a roadmap, my bottom lip sported a healing cut down the side, my forehead and left side of my jaw were bruised purple with the split running across my forehead was scabbed over, along with the few shallow slashes across my throat. I glanced down in the sink, catching sight of my shredded palms. Damn. I really looked like trash.

After my coveralls dried I clambered back into them, feeling sore down to the soul. The rips were still there as well as most of the stains but as long as I felt cleaner the ordeal had been worth it. I tried to convince myself to stay in the cell all day, but the empty pit that used to be my stomach wasn't having it. How many days since I'd last eaten? Maybe now that I was officially on Black Mask's roster I could have a go at the food supply stores rather than hunting down another pack of Little Debbie's in a broken vending machine somewhere.

Sticking to the walls I found my way to the stores. Peeping around a corner, I took stock off the situation. There were two men with guns guarding the crates. Deciding it was now or never, I approached. They both looked me over but with their faces covered I couldn't tell if they were about to shoot me full of holes or laugh. Luckily I got neither.

"Take what ya need but don't get greedy, brat," one of them said, waving me in.

It was Christmas. Crates stocked with dried meats, cans of fruit and vegetables, candy, bottles of water and juice - even coffee. If I believed in god I'd have dropped to my knees and started speaking in tongues. I searched over everything, grabbing a bottle of water, can of pineapple rings that probably had a whole fruit in there, and a big bag of teriyaki beef jerky. Smiling like complete idiot, I didn't notice the odd musk. Contemplating grabbing a bag of apple chips, I didn't hear the guards shuffling away or the rough breathing. Spinning on a heel, my face fell when I saw Mr. Waylon Jones blocking the entrance to the food stores, watching me. He scratched lazily at the metal collar on his throat.

"Find anything good?" he asked, a hint of Cajun accent touching his words. I stepped back, forcing out an uneasy smile.

"Yeah. I haven't eaten fruit in a while, it's kind of exciting," I mumbled, folding my arms tighter over said goods. Waylon grimaced, then set about inhaling deeply, sniffing. He dropped onto his haunches suddenly, I stepped back bumping into a crate and dropping onto it. His attention returned to me.

"You're the only thing I could eat in here," he growled towering over me. I stared up into his luminescent eyes, an uncomfortable feeling growing in my stomach. I looked away sharply, trying not to focus on the interesting way light reflected off his odd hide.

"Sounds like you'll die of hunger in a few days then," I mumbled, a little too aware of his presence. He coughed his odd laugh, once again scaring the hell out of me.

"Nah, Black Mask's giving me all the people that disappoint him," he rumbled, a smirk playing across his pale lips. I bit back a frown. Hey, we all have to eat; I can't really fault the guy as long as I didn't end up in a gumbo. The pleased look on Waylon's face vanished at a sudden blue flash at his throat. Hissing, he reared back, cringing as the shock collar at his throat briefly crackled to life. In a moment it was over, but his mood was spoiled.

"They put a shock collar on you?" I asked, oddly angry at the inhumane treatment. The Killer Croc grimaced, rolling a heavy one shouldered shrug.

"Why'd it electrocute you just then?"

"Been acting up since I smashed it." So he'd damaged it. He seemed to be getting along just fine, however. Standing, I inched my way around him, ducking under his arm to make it to the door. I turned back, seeing he was still watching me.

"Uh, have a nice day Mr. Jones," I offered, blushing at how fucking awkward the situation was.

"Whatever."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I tried not to, I really did, but I practically inhaled the food I'd gotten from storage. It was so good not to eat something covered in sugar foam or imitation chocolate. And the jerky! I'd always eaten a primarily vegetarian diet, meat was just too heavy a food item, but I don't think I'd ever savored something so deeply before. I spent almost fifteen minutes just sucking on my last pieces of the teriyaki-flavored meat. Lying in bed, cocooned in sheets and licking sticky pineapple juice from my lips, I was almost asleep when my door buzzed and clunked open.

"C'mon Dollface, Black Mask wants to see ya," one of the goons called, hitting a pipe against the cell's bar. That nickname wasn't actually sticking was it? I groaned, forcing my way out of the sheets and following him to the offices. I didn't bother locking the door behind me; all I had worth stealing were two pairs of underwear and shit load of blankets.

I stood with my arms crossed and shoulders hunched, trying to make myself more invisible than I already was, at the back of the office. My efforts were being rendered invalid by the giant crocodile man standing a bit too close to my side. At a safer distance a few masked goons milled about the room, but no sign of the man in charge. I huffed, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. He had to be late to a meeting he'd called to keep up his dominant image. _Men._

I'd been focusing all my brainpower trying to figure what Croc was attempting to hum, so I missed when Black Mask entered the room. I didn't miss when he shot the man to his right point blank in the face.

"Now if anyone would like a repeat, then please, continue," of course he was met with complete silence. I didn't realize I'd moved closer to Croc until I heard him snort.

"I'm moving a few guns from Penguin and you lot will be picking them up." I practically felt my brain cramp. Why, of everyone under his control, was I part of this? I threw my head back, taking a deep breath. Keep it under control; don't want to get mouthy and end up like that other guy.

"Most of you dumbasses know the only way to Penguin is through Joker's facility. You'll be meeting Penguin's people midway in a basement sublevel for the exchange," he slammed a stack of folders three inches thick onto the desk "this is his end, the guns are mine. Mess this up and don't come back." I gripped the cuffs of my coveralls. What could possibly be in those folders that were worth _guns_?

Barking at the group, the other four men were each given guns with one of them appointed 'leader'. He was the one who had to deal with the directions. Croc wasn't given a weapon; the man was lethal enough with his hands and accompanying us mainly for the intimidation factor. Lastly, Black Mask approached me and slapped the folders against my chest, leveling a baleful gaze at me.

"What do you think Dollface? Say the word and I'll let you out of this," his smooth as ash voice offered. I clenched the folders in my hands, glaring at the onyx mask. I wasn't going to fall for that.

"No thank you Sir," I grit back. There was a flash of humor in his eyes before he turned, snarling commands at the other men. I sighed, deflating. This was my life now, on par with a drug runner. Except incredibly worse and way more illegal. The group eventually formed out in the hall, the four men in front followed by Croc and I. The armed goons did a good job looking fearless, but Croc demonstrated he had a sense of humor and was also an asshole by randomly snarling, causing the men to practically jump out of their skins. Each time he did it, he'd cast me a sideways glance, grinning. At first I was able to turn up my nose, but by the third time I had to cover the stupid grin marring my face. Such a bastard.

Ignoring further shenanigans, I turned my attention to the folders. Deciding there was little more trouble I could get into I flipped through the tabs. These were the inmate files for prisoners in Black Mask's zone. I glanced over the details of one curiously. These had everything, a person's weight, eye color, ethnic background, and other obvious things as well as past and current criminal and incarceration history and any psych evaluations. Flipping through the folders I didn't find mine. So these weren't everyone's. Why would Penguin want this information, let alone it being incomplete? If Black Mask was sending me along then it wasn't out of the bounds of logic Penguin's men would remember me and notice I wasn't in the files, I had an obvious face. Was this information on Black Mask's men valuable enough on its own to warrant another exchange to get the rest? Penguin did have a pretty hefty corner of the black market in his pocket, maybe he was reselling inmate info to someone. I frowned, slapping the files back against my chest. I'd never make a good super criminal, none of this shit made any sense.

We rounded a corner and found a group of eight men loitering in the middle of the hall. I tensed, this was the first time I'd seen Penguin's men and damn it all if they weren't armed to the teeth. I knew about as much about cars as I did about guns, I could use one if I had to but I didn't have a license and couldn't name the make and model. But Penguin's men were sporting weapons that not only looked wicked deadly, but also not like something one would find in the Blackgate guards' armory. I suppose being the king of Gotham's weapons black market had its perks even through a police blockade and prison walls.

Coming to a halt about twenty feet from the group, a smiling man with a shaved head who appeared to be in his mid 30's stepped forward. He didn't have a visible weapon. Ballsy.

"Well, well, well, looks like Joker's security's gettin' slack," he snorted, grinning at us. Two of Black Mask's men visibly eased, one even resting his shotgun back against his shoulder with his other hand on his hip.

"I'll be damned, if it ain't Loose Lips! How the hell are ya man?" one of my group laughed, sounding as if he'd reunited with an old friend. The bald man's grin broadened, eyes twinkling.

"Doin' great, thanks for askin'! But I'll be doin' a hell of a lot better if I don't need to go pumpin' you kids full ah holes," my group scoffed at his remark "now, now, kiddies, you bring what ol' Mr. Cobblepott asked for?" he planted his hands on his hips. I really couldn't decide how to feel about this guy's casual behavior. This was an arms deal, right? Something meant to be taken seriously. I looked around and realizing everyone was eyeing me I quickly stepped forward.

"This is it," I affirmed, holding the files out. Loose Lips looked me over curiously. "And to whom do I owe my thanks?" he asked, grabbing but not taking the folders. I frowned. Shit. I didn't want to tell some random my name, but this deal didn't need to go sour because I was being private.

"Dollface," I mumbled, then blushed as he pulled the files and one of my hands forward, planting a kiss on the back of it. "My pleasure then, Dollface," he husked, smirking against my hand. The snarl Croc let loose had me flinching back as both groups snapped their guns at each other, shredding whatever fragile ease between the groups. Loose Lips didn't jump to his credit, but quickly dropped my hand in favor of retreating into his ranks.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasin' your girl Croc. I didn't know, don't worry about it," he snapped his fingers, waving a hand "here's your toys. Your man knows who to ask if ya need more." Three cases were passed to Black Mask's men before Loose Lips dipped a gracious bow and both sets of thugs warily backed away from each other until they were no longer in sight.

I heaved the case I'd been given, pulling it up into both arms to better manage the weight. Well that had gone immensely better than I'd hoped. However I avoided looking at Croc, whatever his outburst had been about left me a little worried. Turns out I wouldn't have time to confuse myself over the issue because as we rounded onto the main levels we came face to face with a mob of Joker's men.

_**/AN: **Ricky "Loose Lips" Leblanc is the best, one of the only good things to come out of Arkham Origins**/**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It should've been the most obvious thing in the world but I was shocked out my skin when everyone opened fire. Maybe I was expecting a Mexican Standoff or at least a quick exchange of smart aleck remarks, but our group of six and the other mob of twelve didn't waste time blowing holes into each other. Croc barreled through the men with a roar, tearing at the clown thugs. I dove, or I would have if my legs hadn't just given out, to the ground, and propped the heavy metal case of guns up like a shield. Yelping at every jolt the case received, I shuffled sideways, screaming when one of Black Mask's thugs collapsed onto me. Something warm pooled in the dip of my lower back, I pulled the case closer, tucking my legs under the corpse. It was probably only minutes before the room quieted.

It took me too long to realize the gunfire had ceased. Trembling, I pulled my arms away from my head. The only sounds I could pick up through my ringing ears were snapping and wet. Peeping over the case, I realized why. Croc's back faced me; he crouched over a pile of mutilated bodies. Struggling a bit I managed to push the body off my legs and lift to my feet, surveying the suddenly calmed chaos.

Blood everywhere, bullets riddling the walls as much as the bodies. Stepping over the carnage on my way to the other gore splattered gun cases it became obvious Croc and I were the only two left standing. I ran a hand through warm, damp hair, biting my lip to keep under control. How had I managed to come out unharmed in this mess? I shook my head, momentarily dispelling the survivor's guilt. I moved about the dead men methodically checking their pockets for goods and removing their weapons. Black Mask would be pissed if we didn't come back with at least our guns and Penguin's, Joker's guns would set him in a good mood. Maybe he wouldn't do the intimidation routine with me.

Croc remained on the other side of the room. I busied myself with building a pile of what I couldn't carry, avoiding coming to terms with the cannibalism the other man was no doubt participating in. I lugged the last case of guns to the pile, rubbing sweat from my forehead. The wet snaps of his meal had silenced. He was breathing in deeply. I watched his back for a bit, he didn't move. I stepped over a few corpses, peeking at Croc's face.

"You okay?" my voice was a lot coarser than I'd thought it'd be. By this time I was at his side and got an eyeful. At his feet were bodies ripped apart, his bandaged arms were dripping with blood. His pale mouth only lent to the stark contrast of the red rivulets pouring down to his belly. He sniffed the air, turning so his cold eyes bit into me.

"Someone's playing dead." The words were barely past his teeth before the body below me catapulted upwards and bolted. Caught off guard I tripped backwards, landing painfully on one of the guns I'd strapped on. Croc lunged, a gore-stained hand missing the fleeing clown by inches. The man threw himself over the bars on the stairs, dropping out of Croc's reach. The giant scaled man growled over the guardrail. I got up, readjusting the guns slung over my shoulders.

"It's fine, right? We should get going," I urged, realizing I wouldn't stand a chance should that runaway get reinforcements to show. With a final growl, Croc turned from the stairs and began grabbing at the weapons I couldn't carry. "Doesn't matter. I've got his scent."

The walk back I followed closely behind Croc, more scared of running into another group of clowns than I was of a blood-spattered cannibal. He set a difficult pace, his aggressive disposition and mile long legs had me at a jog.

Focusing on keeping the guns from sliding down my shoulders I ran smack into Croc's back when we made it to Black Mask's office. I moaned, rubbing my nose as Croc cough-laughed at me. I felt the beginning of a smile plucking at my lips as he folded awkwardly through the doorway; at least his bad mood was gone. Unfortunately, as I laid eyes on the white suited mob boss seated at his desk, my disposition was turning defensive. I didn't bother hiding my glower while his acidic eyes trailed over us.

The exchange went well enough. He was pleased as punch over the extra twelve guns, enough so that he shrugged when I explained why we were lacking manpower. After a few jokes at my expense and plain mean comments the session was over and I trudged my way down to the food stores. Gathering up a prepackaged meal of peppered beef jerky, a cinnamon honey bun, bag of apple chips, and a bottle of lemonade I slithered my way back to my room and burritoed up in the blankets. Shoving a handful of sweet chips down my gullet, I munched appreciatively. This was what I deserved. Sure, I was getting crumbs of food and flakes of some other guy's dried blood all over my bed, but I deserved a break.

Continuing with the self-righteous pity party, I flopped onto my other side. This was really a garbage situation. Why was Blackgate still out of control? Shouldn't the police have absolved the issue by now, it's almost been two weeks of this nightmare. I pushed a piece of jerky past my lips, sucking on the peppery meat. What about that Batman guy? He usually put an end to these types of things. I rolled onto my stomach, whining into the two inches of cotton this place called a pillow. I'd been lucky, _ridiculously lucky_, to make it this long without something horrible happening to me. I had my ugly past and body to thank for what got me here and what had ultimately kept me alive. Coming to no conclusions I decided to at least bathe and soak my clothes before going to sleep.

With the chores done I changed into clean underclothes and a tank top before settling in for the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Waylon's room was about as bizarre as expected. He'd holed up in a former staff lounge; he'd destroyed or removed just about all of the original furniture, lighting, and appliances except the sink. He'd broken the doorway wide enough to fit him comfortably through and amassed a mountain of mattresses to one side of the room. It smelled in here. Of course there was his musk, an odor that hung between a man's natural scent and something more feral, but it was spoiled by the stench of blood. Standing in the middle of the room, it was clear from the scraps of dirty inmate uniforms and rust colored stains over everything that Waylon took his meals in here. I briefly wondered whether he simply consumed people whole leaving no evidence or whether he cleaned.

The beast in question was sitting on the sleeping pallet with his arms resting on his knees, eyeing me with a glazed look of boredom. I wasn't sure how our relationship had progressed to this, but I was almost confident he wouldn't eat or rip me in half anytime soon. In the back of my mind, buried under a mound of reasoning and logic, I realized he was the closest acquaintance I'd had in months. That seed of thought was the driving force for why I'd sought out Waylon today, because I felt like I owed him. I'm not entirely sure why, it should be common decency not to eat or maim other people.

"Why are you here?" he rasped, his words coated in that smoky Cajun accent. I toed a stray knucklebone, arms crossed.

"Was wondering if you wanted that collar off." Well that got his attention.

"You offering?" his eyes narrowed. I ignored his focus, knocking the small bone between my shoes.

"Uh, yes. I mean I'll try, I'm pretty sure I can get it off?" I mumbled, glancing up through my bangs. He remained seated, slowly bringing a massive scaled hand to his collared throat and tugging at the device. He rolled one huge shoulder "don't waste my time." Hesitating a moment, the guy sent mixed signals, I carefully maneuvered over the mattresses to stand in front of him. I was an arm's length away from the collar, trying not to focus on how I was standing between his outstretched limbs. It had been a while since I'd been this close to him, to the degree I could see each individual scale and every odd tooth piercing from his jaw through his lips, and I'd never been this close voluntarily. I mentally shook myself and focused on the shock collar.

I had to reach up to get at the device despite Croc's sitting position. The ring of metal was tight on his skin to the point I couldn't push even my thin digits between scale and collar. It was heavily bolted together, likely rigged to go off should it be removed by brute force. I ran my fingers across the cold surface, noting a bulged section hidden under a screwed in plate. This would be as good as any place to start.

I unzipped my coveralls to my belly, pulling out a screwdriver. The thicker section of the collar was set a bit to the back, which meant I had to pretty much lean against his shoulder and balance on my tiptoes to reach. Ignoring the scales pressing into the fabric of my undershirt, I got the collar open. Great, now if only I could see in.

"Are there any chairs I can stand on in here?" I asked, dropping back on the flats of my feet and looking around. An arm wrapped around the backs of my knees causing me to drop back onto the bandaged forearm as he raised me up, pinning my legs against his chest. I squeaked, falling forward and catching myself against his shoulder, a blush furiously pooling over my face. I refocused on the issue at hand, not on the feeling of his teeth grazing against my hip or the wetness of his breath against my stomach or even the shameless shudder that rolled through me. I peered into the open shock collar.

Tubing, wires, a screen with a set of numbers, it was all very bizarre. One hand clutching onto the collar for stability, I flicked through the wiring. Yup, no idea what any of this does. Poking at the screen it became apparent it was a control panel of sorts complete with lock code of nine digits. It would take too long to safely figure out the password, ripping the collar off manually was out of the question, and with no solid knowledge on wiring I decided the best I could do would be to remove what was giving the hunk of garbage power.

Fingering the wires I eventually found the battery packs and gracelessly ripped them out of their sockets. With the small control screen gone blank I took that as a good sign and continued with the larger bolts on the outside. The entire time I worked Croc's grip tightened, his other hand trailing blunted claws down my spine. Biting my cheek, toes curled, I rushed the last bolt out, the device clicking open and dropping to the floor.

"C-collar's off." I expected to be let down but his grip remained. Feeling anxious I twisted in his arm, tapping his shoulder. He moved, pulling me closer so that my knees were forced apart against his abdomen as his hands shifted to wrap around my back and thigh. His hands were unbelievable, the same hand capable of having a thumb running down my sternum while fingers pressed into my spine painfully, causing me to arch away. I began struggling, pushing my elbows against his chest and twisting my hips hard. Croc snarled viciously in my ear, a moment of ringing deafness followed. He yanked on my thigh, grinding me against him. I whimpered at the sudden friction. Tears pooled in my eyes, I bit my lip against them and buried my face against the scaly hollow of his throat.

"Why?" the word bubbled out wet and sore. Croc continued to circle his clawed digits across my back. A deep rumbling vibrated through his chest into me. His other hand kneaded the skin of my thigh, occasionally trailing painful claws from hip to knee. My fingers scraped against the scales of his chest and neck.

"You can't hide it. I can smell it on you." I trembled at the thickness of his voice. I flushed to the point of pain, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Then you can also smell how scared I am" the words barely made it past my lips but their effect was instant. He dropped me onto the dirty mattresses unceremoniously. I bounced once then got to my feet, retreating across the room.

"Get out." I looked back, eyes still welling up. His face was venomous, but he wouldn't look at me. There was pain there. It was old anger, pain from wounds that had never healed. I hesitated at the doorway. This wasn't his fault. I wanted to tell him everything about my fear of touch, that a real monster was responsible for how I was now. Croc was important to me, for some unknown reason, and I didn't want him to have another excuse for hating me, humans – for hating himself.

I left without saying anything.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Gotham's criminal underworld thrived on information. Whether the big bosses liked to admit it or not the lifeblood of almost all illegal operations in this town was bled from gossip. It was through this word of mouth that I was granted prison wide immunity from harm, because somehow everyone believed I was Croc's girl. No one wanted to chance gaining the attention of a well-known unstable cannibal. Initially I'd been surprised, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief about my newfound safety. But then Black Mask had to ruin it by turning me into his personal messenger girl.

My real relationship with Waylon was less exciting than the rumors let on. I hadn't actually spoken to him since the collar incident, the likelihood he wanted nothing to do with me was pretty high. I was a coward and couldn't muster the courage to explain or apologize for what happened. So I'd avoided the issue, and him, entirely.

I stood stiffly I front of Joker. He lounged with one leg thrown over the arm of his electric chair 'throne', white chin resting in a gloved hand with the conductive 'crown' resting in his green hair. We'd just finished up business, which was focused around exchanging some of Black Mask's chemicals for money. The deal would physically take place outside of the prison, but the bosses had to approve of it in here. Now that we were done, the mischievous sparkle was back in his green eyes.

"So how have you been Dollface? Croc treating you well? It's lovely to see you again, I must say, but I do wish old Black Mask would send his men again," the Clown Prince of Crime sighed wistfully. I pressed my lips together, glancing away worriedly. Joker didn't like sending back messengers as much as beautifully wrapped presents containing parts of messengers. Or he'd have his men reply with a haiku using intestines.

"I've been well thank you, and I'll let Black Mask know about your thoughts Mr. Joker. Thank you for your time today," I nodded. The clown flapped a hand and two goons grabbed my upper arms. I tensed, shooting a worried look at them.

"Don't be in such a hurry! Let me put a smile on that face, it's the least I can do," he implored, splitting into giggles as he flopped against the electric chair. I whined in the back of my throat.

After Joker had his fun I was dumped in a corridor and left to my own devices. Grumbling, I rubbed at my stinging eyes. The greasepaint irritated my skin and was a bitch to clean off but I'd take this over disembowelment any day. Wiping at the black around my eyes I headed to a meet up point with Penguin's men. No deals were being finalized yet; we were just going to see if either party had anything worth taking. An easy end to another stressful day in Blackgate.

"My favorite little lady! How ya been Dollface?" grinned Ricky "Loose Lips" Leblanc. The man walked towards me with open arms, ruffling my hair when he got close enough. Our meeting point was on the third story of a cellblock just inside of Black Mask's facility. The cellblocks were generally all open air, the walls lined with cells and walkways with an open drop down to the floor fitting the middle of the hall. "Looks like Joker got a hold of ya already," he noted, frowning a bit over my white face, red lips, and dark eyes. I shrugged, scrubbing at the mess with a hand cloth I brought for just this dilemma.

"Yeah well shit happens," I sighed. Ricky nodded sagely. He'd been in the business long enough to understand.

"That it does sister. Now you know I love seein' ya but we do have business to take care of," Ricky was straight to the point today, shockingly.

"True. Black Mask's offering information on inmates and potentially drugs or chemical weapons. Nothing new. What's Mr. Cobblepot got?" I asked. I was sure I wasn't supposed to offer up info first, but I really didn't care. Sure, I liked Ricky well enough, but the quicker we got this taken care of the quicker I could roll into bed.

"Mr. Cobblepot's got – " Ricky didn't get to finish as a black wall dropped between us.

"Aw Christ not you again!" Loose Lips yelled. The man in black twisted, slamming Ricky into the bars of the cell closest to us, I jumped, stumbling back.

"W – what are ya gonna do? Ain't no Christmas trees to drop me off in 'round here," Penguin's information peddler stuttered. The third party growled, twisting his grip on Ricky's coveralls tighter around the throat.

"Next time. You're not who I'm here for," he hissed and pulled back an arm of solid muscle. Ricky and I realized what was happening too late, I barely managed to open my mouth in protest as Ricky squeezed his eyes shut before the man struck him out cold. Loose Lips Leblanc dropped to the ground in a slump. The man in black turned to me.

I was frozen, clutching the greasepaint-covered cloth. I looked from the black and gray armor plates, to the black bat insignia on his chest, to the tapered points of his cowl. My stomach dropped.

"Batman?" the word barely got out before my face connected with the iron bars of the cell behind me. I shrieked through a flash of red and white. He twisted my left arm into my back, my own fingers bloating on restricted blood flow.

"What's Joker's game?" he snarled, pressing my arm further. Tears poured against the bar digging into my cheek.

"What? I don't know!" I yowled again as something popped in my arm. Why the hell would I know anything about the Clown?

"You run information between the bosses in here. Talk if you plan on using this arm again," Batman snarled.

"I – I don't know anything! I just set up deals between them, guns for money or favors and stuff," I howled. He must've been good at this kind of work because as soon as my arm went numb he pulled me off the bars and shoved me over the railing. The cold bar dug across my lower back, my feet whipped in the air as I grabbed at the hand on my throat, the only thing keeping me from falling three stories.

"I don't have time for this," he spat, forcing me further off balance over the bar. My eyes rolled frantically, tears rolling back into my hairline. I knew nothing. I was going to die. I opened my mouth to plead one last time to the snarling man over me but the gunfire beat me to it. Batman ducked, arms pulling back defensively against the bullets. For a moment I hung suspended, tears stilled to droplets in my eyes as we stared at each other, his blue eyes widening for a moment as I tipped over the railing. I had a brief moment to see a group of Penguin's men charge my assailant before my shoulder struck the second story railing, I flipped, and landed on my left leg before crumpling to the ground.

The gunfire and screams from the third floor echoed chaotically in the stone halls of Blackgate. I barely heard it, a deafening rushing in my ears. I was probably screaming but couldn't tell, the pain in left leg dominating my entire world. Something drilled into my leg, pain echoing up through my body. I must have landed on a rod of rebar. I tried to sit up but my arm wouldn't respond. I heaved between cries, rolling onto my side. I sought blindly for the source of my struggles, but slumped back down. I couldn't do it.

The struggle upstairs had ceased a while ago. I hadn't seen if the Bat had left or not but I didn't care. The pain in my body was still strong, but after sobbing until my hair and neck were sticky with tears I realized I had to get moving. With that…_thing_, still around I couldn't afford to lay here vulnerable. Climbing into a seated position against the wall, I got my first look at the damage.

My left arm hung limp, pain shooting through my shoulder. My left leg was more of a pressing matter. The angle it laid at was all wrong; the calf of my coveralls ran red. For a time my head swam in and out of darkness. When the world came into enough focus I pushed myself across the floor, dragging the left half of my body as I did so.

At some point I drifted out of consciousness, resurfacing when a very distressed member of Black Mask's people discovered me. From there I was carried to the offices and with no little protest my arm was forced back into its socket and the leg of my coveralls pushed back to reveal the damage. Looking down at the brittle white splinter protruding from torn meat, I finally succumbed to a full on black out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Black Mask wasn't taking very kindly to the Batman's presence. I sat in a plush chair in his office, broken leg already set in a cast and propped over an overturned crate. It was good forethought to keep some of the medical staff alive. The masked crime boss stalked around the room, kicking the bodies of two men he'd beaten to death after I'd given him the good news.

"What the _fuck_ does he want?"

"The Joker, apparently."

"Shut your fucking mouth before I shove a gun in it. I don't know why the Bat tried to fucking kill you but I need to thank him. That clown's mine, I've been working him since we got in this fucking place!" he slammed a knife into his desk, bracing his arms over it. Oh. So that's why he'd been willing to work deals with the clown. He had a plan the whole time. I adjusted the ice pack over my swollen black eye. I licked at the split lip I'd also received from the caped crusader. No one was entirely sure why he'd beat the shit out of me to such a degree, a small part of me believed it was an accident but a bigger more bitter part had already decided he was a freak and a bastard.

"Maybe you should cut your losses. Batman's as good a distraction as any," I sighed, sinking further into the chair. Black Mask looked up sharply.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about escape. If the Bat's here and active then things are going to go downhill, we both know this takeover isn't going to last. Let's get things rolling for getting out of here while the odds are good."

"And you've got everything worked out for a clean escape." I grimaced at his tone.

"Not yet but I can," he glared at me, an obvious internal battle raging. If these men didn't have such ridiculous pride half their problems would disappear. Black Mask seemed to calm, his shoulders lowering a bit.

"What will you need?"

I stayed in Black Mask's office for the next three days planning for the upcoming escape. Batman was riling up the penitentiary as predicted. From what the inmates were whispering I understood Penguin had been taken out. That meant his men could either join in with the two remaining bosses or hole up somewhere out of the way. Judging from the flood of new faces, the former was a popular choice. No doubt Joker was experiencing a similar bolstering of ranks and knowing him he would make quick use of the new toys. I didn't have a lot time to get the breakout planned. Luckily I was a fucking genius and had shit on lockdown already. And Black Mask's infinite funds and in's with the GCPD didn't hurt either.

It was probably the remnants of the pain meds, or maybe the full belly of canned peaches, but I was feeling confident. Sure all of it relied on conjecture but I had enough back ups and fail safes built into the plan it felt solid. The most trouble I'd had was figuring out how to get everyone Black Mask wanted out. I was included with the plan, hopefully he wouldn't glass me last minute, along with Croc, six higher ups in the False Face Society, and obviously Black Mask himself. Croc was a problem with how fucking huge he is but his size could be an advantage and I was wily enough to plan with it. When it came time to execute the plan, however, I hadn't factored in the cowardice of Black Mask's men.

When Joker used the penitentiary wide PA system to invite everyone to witness the Bat's last dance the plan got rolling. Twelve thugs were fitted with white suits and matching black masks along with a set of eight or so regular thugs each to guard them. Decoys. The groups were sent to separate sections of the prison, one took up Joker's invitation, another stayed in the offices, and another stuck with the real Black Mask's group. The groups dispatched to various parts of the prison were both armed to the teeth and toting homemade bombs. If they were lucky they'd be able to use what they had to escape, but that was unlikely. They were meant as a distraction, nothing more.

The sudden execution of the plan left the groups scattered and frantic, I was able to keep track of Black Mask but no one knew where Croc was. Hopefully he was just lagging behind and hadn't come across the Bat. Relying on the help of one of the FFS members I hobbled along with the group towards our destination. We weren't out of the second level of the cellblock when the GCPD in full riot gear exploded into the halls. Tear gas canisters clunked to either side of the group as Black Mask and his men opened fire and sprinted to the stairwell. Stumbling, I grabbed at the man who'd been helping me get around, only for him to smash into my already swollen eye with the butt of his gun and bolt after the group. I fell, clutching at my watery eyes and coughing at the tear gas burn.

"Asshole!" I screeched, stomach heaving. I gagged, crawling to my feet. The white smoke destroyed all visibility; I could barely make out the tips of my fingers as I groped along the wall. Slobber and tears drooled down my face as I moved towards the stairwell and fell again on my gimp leg. Fire brewed in my belly as the GCPD thundered through the gas. I didn't deserve this shit. What had I ever done to earn half the shit that happened to me? The scars, this life, Batman throwing me down three stories, what the fuck!? Coughing I barely heard the GCPD's cut off screams. Suddenly I was lifted off the ground and thrown over a glassy green shoulder, his enormous hand holding me in place. Gasping through a tightening throat I gripped hard onto his hide, shamelessly drooling onto his back as he tore open the door to the stairwell and ascended.

"Thanks," I gasped through a wet throat. I rubbed my face into the shoulder of my coveralls, trying to get all the gross snot and tears cleaned off. Waylon didn't respond, just continued to climb the stairs five or six steps at a time until we reached the group.

Black Mask stood over a corpse waving a pistol around, screaming at the rest of the men struggling with the reinforced roof access door. Waylon pulled me off his shoulder and dropped me somewhat carefully across the hall from the masked mob boss. In one stride he got to the door and, bracing his elbows against the hall's walls, slammed his heel into it. The entire door buckled backwards but still held. That didn't last however, with two more strikes the door flew open and the mob of men flooded outside. Using the wall I shuffled to the door then weakly hopped on one leg through the snow after them. I wasn't expecting the helicopters to be here so soon. Black Mask and his six FFS members just finished loading into one GCPD helicopter with a civilian copter dropping down next to it. Had to love Black Mask's connections.

The decoy group piled into this helicopter and took off in the opposite direction of the real Black Mask's ride. This left Waylon and I to wait for the next GCPD helicopter alone. The world around the prison was shivering with activity. Helicopters circled overhead, floodlights poured over everything, accompanied by the sting of tear gas even in open air. Sirens and the police commissioner's broadcasted voice pierced through the chilly night. I glanced skyward, the navy-black sky spotted with snowy clouds. There was no moon tonight.

I moved towards Croc but ended up on my ass again. There was a trail of red dotting across the snow. Following the gore, it ended at Waylon.

"Are you hurt?" I called. What was taking that helicopter so long?

"Are you stupid?" he snapped back. I blinked in surprise then smiled. Sure he wasn't being nice but we were back on speaking terms. I stood up carefully.

"Yeah, actually. Listen what happened before…I'm bad with touch. It's not that you freak me out. Just had some stuff happen that made me weird," I admitted, snow dripping off my fingers. He remained facing away from me; I could now see that his clawed hands were what had been leaving the blood trail. He was silent for a time, both of us impatiently searching the sky for our ride.

"Got anything to do with your face?" he grunted. I scrunched up my nose. Was he trying to make a joke about my ugly face or referring to the scars on my ugly face?

"Yes," he was right either way. It felt nice to clear things up, even better when a copter started lowering towards us. I took a step forward and faceplanted hard, but this time it wasn't due to a bum leg but an armored black fist to the back of the head.

"Thought I smelled you," coughed Killer Croc. Seeing stars I pushed away from the Bat, rapidly blinking snow out of my eyes. Batman stood, bitter and dark, facing Waylon. Both men were hunched, glaring each other down warily. I scooted backwards, closer to Croc, as the helicopter landed.

"Asshole," I spat. Batman glanced at me, even his brief gaze leaving me exhausted. He had the same intensity as the rest of the super criminals, whatever made him do the whole costumed crusader thing was on par with whatever ruined the other costumed villains' lives. Still, tragic hero or not, I wasn't about to feel empathy for some leg-breaking bastard that punched gimpy girls in the back of their heads.

"Croc, don't make this a repeat of what happened two months ago. Turn yourself in." The GCPD helicopter blew a dusting of snow up around us. I faced the chilly wind hopefully, grabbing at Waylon's pant leg and giving him an imploring look. The man's white lip pulled back in a sneer as he looked at me. He wanted a fight. Again, a man's pride would be his downfall. My head pounded.

"Don't," I shook my head up at him. Looking between the Bat and I, Croc seemed to bristle. Batman wasn't stupid; he took advantage of Croc's indecision and charged.

Killer Croc grumbled irritably, throwing an arm and clipping the Dark Knight across the chest. Batman was smooth, throwing himself over the scaly arm and sending a brutal kick into a toothy jaw. Croc wrapped a clawed fist through the Bat's cape then threw the man back against the roof access door. Waylon scooped me up around the waist and held me under his arm as he climbed into the helicopter. Grabbing a gun from the wall, he opened fire at the Bat forcing the man to find cover. I hung at Croc's hip the whole time, clutching onto his arm with hair whipping across my face. It wasn't until Croc chucked the empty weapon at the diminishing Batman before I felt a whip of excitement through my belly.

We were out!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

I clung to Croc the entire ride out of Blackgate. It was mainly out of self-preservation, I was too keyed up to get my fumbling hands to work the seat belts and was still in a state of worry over a spiteful Batman. I had made it out of a fall of three stories fairly unscathed, but a Bat-toss from a helicopter wouldn't be so kind to my bones. Pressed between Waylon's thick arm and flank I almost felt safe surrounded by his musk and muscle. Each fleeing copter from Blackgate had a car waiting for them at separate locations. After ours had dropped us off, we soon located our waiting SUV.

When I followed Waylon to the car the waiting driver blocked my entry with an arm. I looked up at the man, my forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Black Mask sends his regards, now you'll be on your way," he said, shoving a backpack into my arms.

What?

No.

No he didn't mean that I was just hearing things wrong.

"What?" I asked, fingers digging into the plastic fabric of the book bag. Waylon huffed irritably behind me.

"My instructions are for driving Killer Croc. Not you." I shook my head, mouth popping open, but the driver waved me away. Desperate, I turned back to Croc. Maybe he could clear up the confusion or at least intimidate the guy. My companion looked bored.

"Tough luck Dollface," he moved forward, almost gently pushing me to the side as he climbed into the SUV. I glared at him, grinding my teeth. He rolled down the tinted window, grinning at me. "See y'around," he growled, a smug look of satisfaction pulling at his white lips. My stomach dropped.

"Are you not helping me so you can get _back at me?_" I hissed, eyes narrowing. He couldn't seriously be mad about when I kind of rejected him, if it could be called that. Croc leveled a lazy smile at me.

"Don't be so emotional, not everything's about you." Yeah well I would've believed that if he weren't obviously suppressing a smirk.

"Fuck you."

"You wish," he cough-laughed, the vehicle pulling away. I watched it leave, the situation still not hitting me. That wasn't my one chance at freedom leaving with my only kind-of-friend laughing at my imminent re-incarceration. Nope. I shoved my face into the backpack, screaming into it while I stood alone on Dock E of the shipping district.

I pulled back after a bit of aggression faded, the reality of the moment closing in. Shivering in the falling snow I investigated the bag, see what Black Mask thought I was worthy of instead of a ride to his safe house. It was light, mostly empty except for a set of gray sweats and a few stacks of fifty-dollar bills. About eight hundred dollars' worth.

I broke out in a sweat.

Dropping the bag I changed in the open, refusing to look at the money. The sweats were clean, soft, warm, and best of all didn't smell like blood or prison. Tossing my coveralls into the bay and the last scraps of my lock picking goods into the bag, I slid the backpack over my shoulders and shuffled towards my dumpy apartment in the Narrows.

My living locations in Gotham had always been, frankly, shit holes. My line of work meant I needed a place hard to access and harder to find. I'd found my latest accommodations through the Broker. He had ensured me the place was discrete, nice for the price, and utterly out of the GCPD's scope of knowledge. To be fair I wasn't as picky as I should've been, I practically signed my life away as soon as I'd found out it had hot water.

I groaned, knocking my forehead against the door. My key was back with my other confiscated goods at Blackgate. Popping the lock open after a few lazy tries, I entered my secret little oasis.

The actual apartment had about the same square footage of a Blackgate prison cell, which I could have found ironic or funny if I tried. The apartment was one room with a kitchenette barely big enough for a mini fridge, green futon, floral loveseat, TV dinner tray used as a desk, one broken window that wouldn't open across from the door, and a bathroom with a narrow shower. The walls and ceiling were a crème color and covered in water stains, the wood floor scuffed and warped, and all the furniture dingy and bought second hand. I'd always been a fan of the theory that a person's bedroom showed their personality.

Sliding three deadbolts, one chain, and the lock on the door into place I threw down my bag on the loveseat and retreated into the bathroom for a shower. Planning, safety, revenge, work, crying, eating, self loathing, sleeping, and pacing a new rut into the floorboards be damned; I was going to get clean.

Almost two hours later I sat at my loveseat, damp hair smelling like green apples. Clad in a fluffy lavender robe, I cracked open my prehistoric laptop on the dinner tray. Relaxing back into the cushions, I scheduled a check up for my busted leg, checked my e-mails, and watched some of the Blackgate breakout live news coverage. Apparently Penguin, Black Mask, Killer Croc, Deadshot, Deathstroke, and Firefly were the only big names that weren't accounted for. The last one was bit of a surprise.

Shambling to my bed I dropped into the pile of stale fabric with a luxurious groan. Nuzzling into the rough pillow cover I fell asleep with the throb of my leg.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The next morning I woke up to my own moan, hips grinding into the futon. Bolting upright I kicked the sweaty crocheted blankets off and hung my head in my hands as my body cooled down. Remnants of the dream flowed through my mind, a rough texture sliding across my inner thighs and fangs pulling across my – I blushed and marched off to the bathroom.

After morning rituals and changing into shorts, a boot for my good leg, tights with one rolled up leg, one legwarmer, socks, and a big black sweater I fumbled around the apartment in search of my spare cell phone. Finding it in a saucepan I shoved it into my fanny pack along with Black Mask's pity cash and shambled my way to the doctor's.

The visit went as well as any where a woman with a freshly broken fibula and tibia, boatload of scars, and a brutally black eye showed up out of the blue. After some crafty excuses and disapproving doctors' tuts I was out of the office with a new cast and a crutch.

Maybe Black Mask ditching me had been a blessing. Batman and the GCPD would be rolling hard for the super criminals, the further from the big names I got the longer I'd stay out of Blackgate. Yawning into my sleeve, I hailed a taxi and headed home. Or I would have, if the cabbie didn't take a wrong turn. Affronted that someone would purposefully try to run up the meter on an obviously handicapped young lady, it took me a moment to collect myself.

"Excuse me I'm not some tourist you can run the meter on," I said, leaning my crutch to the side so I could make eye contact in the rearview mirror. All I got was a grunt, but he kept driving. When he stopped and two more men got in the cab I realized I was in trouble. Squashed to the middle of the back seat the new occupants adjusted themselves so that I got a look at the guns they were toting.

"Anymore complaints miss?" the fake cabbie called, a smug smirk reflecting back through the rearview mirror. I squeezed my crutch, sighing through my nose.

"Can I know where we're going?" I asked. The man to my left took something out of his coat pocket and began unfolding it. I realized what it was too late.

"Sorry Dollface, you'll find out when we get there. It's the rules," the other goon grabbed my wrists and zip tied them as his companion dropped a black bag over my head and tightened it around my throat. Letting out an involuntary whimper, I pulled my arms in tight and bowed my head, trying to be as small as possible. Resigning myself to fate, I slumped my shoulders and dealt with the ride.

Probably forty minutes passed before the cab pulled to a stop. When I was pulled out of the car, which was no easy measure with one useless leg and bound hands, the first thing I noticed was the lack of city life sounds. I wasn't being led into a soybean field to dig my own grave was I? No, we were still on concrete. Taking a deep breath I tried to pick out smells. Moist pre rain air, nothing else I could discern. Leaning most of my weight on one of the men and holding onto his arm I was slowly led from the vehicle. There was a rattle then we entered a building, judging by sudden difference in air quality. I was pushed onto a chair with my hands bound behind the back. Then nothing. I waited patiently for a bit, wiggling my toes in my cast I was thankful I'd pulled on a fuzzy sock over it. This building or wherever was cold. Sighing through my nose, I felt my patience thinning. Masked criminals scared me, this is fact, but the over saturation of stress in the past few days had left me careless and bold.

"Hello?"

"Please reframe from speaking for a moment," came the response. I frowned under my bag. I couldn't place the voice, but it wasn't too threatening. Even blind and bound in a hidden location I was feeling more confident than I did when I first encountered Black Mask. Suddenly the bag was lifted.

I blinked at the light changed and focused on the man in front of me as he tossed the bag into my lap. Tall, lean, sporting a sweater vest and slacks he wasn't exactly what I was expecting. The brunet planted his fingerless gloved hands on his hips and peering down at me through purple rectangle framed glasses.

"Hi," he smiled.

"Nice to meet you," I offered my own worried smile. When he remained silent, I glanced around the room uneasily. Not quite a warehouse, not quite an apartment, I'd guess we were in an office building. It wasn't very clean but wasn't in total disrepair either. He cleared his throat.

"Bambi, was it?" I jumped at my name, snapping my attention back to the strange man. "Not a very fitting name for someone with your complexion," he observed. I shrugged one shoulder. Nodding to himself he dropped down onto a stool behind him, spinning a key ring.

"Although Dollface has just the right measure of irony."

"Uh, I feel the same way. I'm sorry but I don't know you're name?" I admitted sheepishly. If he were anything like the other crazies I'd encountered then he'd be supremely insulted I didn't know of him. True to form, he scoffed and crossed his arms.

"I'm a new breed, I suppose it's not out of the _question_ for someone like you to be unaware of me and my work," he laughed to himself, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. I tried to mask my growing irritation. Just tell me your name you sod.

"You can call me Eddie for the time being. Now onto why you're here," he clapped his hands together, grinning a touch manically. "Tell me about Blackgate."

I stared at him in complete confusion. "What…what like cell size and caloric value of meals?"

"Obviously not, I want to know what I can't figure out on my own," he huffed, exasperated. I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. He smacked a hand over his face, dragging it down and muttering something about the nation's free falling IQ values.

"When the siege took place there was no one to change the security tapes. The footage was recorded over itself for the entire week; I want to know what happened during that time. Enlighten me or I'm going to release some delicate information on Sionis and make sure he knows whose fault it is," he spoke slowly as if I were stupid. The threat wasn't exactly unexpected, there was always some kind of health jeopardizing facet with these men. Although admittedly everyone else seemed to be a lot more hands on than this guy.

I nodded and filled him in with what I could remember. I left out what I deemed unnecessary, like what I ate or how much I slept or how many dead people I had to step over. While I included my interactions with the rogues I didn't elaborate on our encounters if I could help it. Black Mask tolerated me, Croc was an acquaintance, Joker would have laughing gassed me if not for my connection to Croc, and Batman was an asshole jerkoff.

"The Dark Knight didn't swoop in to save you?" Eddie was amused. I snorted, cracking a humorless smile and raising my bright pink cast a bit, "see this? He dropped me off the third story. Didn't even by me a drink first." That seemed to interest the strange sweater vest wearing man in front of me. The rest of the interview passed by with a clinical swiftness. He didn't let on when something caught his interest, but I could guess he was more focused on the gang leaders deals than with how Black Mask had found a constant supply of fresh suits. When we concluded our talk, Eddie rolled his stool up to me and pulled my cast clad leg into his lap. Warily I watched as he uncapped a Sharpie from his key ring and started doodling on the cast.

"Thank you for your compliance, Miss Dahl. I hope it's been as enlightening for you as it has for me, but I doubt that," he hummed pleasantly. I nodded dumbly, totally unsure of the situation. "Now I'll be seeing you," he beamed. Before I could get out a coherent question he'd replaced the bag over my head and I was lifted from the chair. Moved back into the cab I underwent another long blind ride before I was shoved out of the vehicle with my crutch under an arm and my zip tie cut. Dragging the bag off my head I watched the offending yellow car peel away from where I'd been dropped off in front of my apartment building. Sighing, I glanced down at my cast.

Curling from the side of my calf to my ankle was a green geometric question mark.

_**/AN:** Everyone has a thing for ol' E. Nigma and I'm kinda in love with his goofy Origins iteration. Just...a sweater vest. Amazing**/**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Shaking off the oddity of my encounter with the Eddie guy, I got to work climbing the stairs to my apartment. I must've been chatting with that guy for hours, it was late dusk now and I was intent on cooking a package of instant ramen and going to bed. Approaching my door, out of breath, I realized it was ajar. I stopped in the hallway, catching my breath and anxiously studying the doorknob. I had locked it after I left this morning. Leaving it unlocked and ajar was sloppy and amateurish. Steeling my resolve I used my crutch to knock the door back and peered into my dark room.

When nothing jumped out I shuffled into my apartment and glanced around, even into the bathroom. Nothing was out of place, there weren't any monsters, and I didn't find any mysterious new additions to my belongings. Confused I rubbed my arm from the cold and relocked my front door. I froze. Whipping around to face the back wall I got a moment to see my previously sealed window now gaping open with the frozen Gotham air blowing in before a black mass launched itself through the small opening. The back of my skull connected with the door and my feet lifted off the ground as a gloved hand squeezed my throat. I gagged and my eyes bulged at the unexpected pressure.

"What did Nigma want?" the bat asked in his thunderous hoarse voice. Unable to breath I pulled fruitlessly on his fingers and weakly wacked him with my crutch before it was torn from my grip. He eased up enough that I could gasp for breath.

"Who?" I asked as my eyes watered. Batman grabbed my cast-covered leg and twisted it so that the question mark was the center of attention. "Nigma. What did he want," it wasn't a question so much as a command. Beginning to feel lightheaded I was pulled from the door and thrown belly first into my warped wooden floor. A thousand pound knee pinned me as one of my right arm was twisted against my back. Gasping against the cold floor I blurted through a sore throat, "Bla-Blackgate – let me go!" I moaned. When he leaned harder against my back and continued turning my arm I let out a sob and scratched at the floor with my free hand.

"What about Blackgate?"

"The week, the siege, he couldn't find video recordings," I whimpered, "wanted to know what happened. He said he'd blackmail Black Mask if I didn't talk!"

Just when I thought he let me go I felt something crack in my elbow and screamed into the floor, digging my nails into the surface as the massive weight lifted from and my right arm flopped painfully to the side.

"Stay away from Nigma." Even delirious with pain and fear I wondered how I was supposed to prevent getting kidnapped. "Tell Sionis whatever he's hiding I'll stop him." And like that the bat absconded through my window and left me heaving face down in my shitty apartment with a fucked up arm and a threat.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The medical personnel at the clinic weren't pleased to see me. The feeling was mutual. Thanks to an elbow fracture I was now sporting a sky blue cast, black sling, and an empty bank account. Now with my left leg and right arm out of commission as well as the yellow and purple bruising under my net of old scars I hailed a cab and headed down to Sionis Industries.

I was being stupid. I should've used my money on less dangerous things like a gun with Tourette's or a garbage bag of used needles. I'm scared of Black Mask but some part of me felt that informing him of Batman's warning was critical in avoiding getting tortured later down the road. Clunking my forehead against the window I rubbed sleep sand from my eyes. Maybe I should move. Just up and leave Gotham for Metropolis or Coast City.

Who was I kidding; I'd never have as much business in either of those places. I needed a dismal and bustling market of thugs, dirty cops, crooked businessmen, and power hungry crazies. My mouth set in a grim line as I watched the twisted architecture of the Steel district approach. There was something ironic about my line of work and how it trapped me in Gotham but I was too tired and frazzled to entertain the thought.

I paid the cabbie, took a few slow breaths, then left the vehicle and headed to the main building. I was surprised by the hustle and bustle surrounding the mill; it seemed on top of being a criminal headquarters the steel mill was in fact still a working steel mill. Having to ask directions from a worker who gave me a curious once over I eventually found a receptionist who pointed me to secretary who sent me to an office up a set of stairs. When I entered the room I was overheating in my jacket, breathing hard, and feeling achy but all that dried up into cold panic when I spotted the white suited mob boss.

He sat behind a desk half covered with papers. A glass of what I assumed to be whiskey or some other gross liqueur rested amidst the chaos with a sleek phone and a pistol that looked like it'd been built for the sole purpose of looking menacing. Not bothering to stand, Black Mask gestured towards a plush set of chairs on the other side of the room next to the wet bar and window overlooking the factory floor. I obediently and gratefully took a seat, Black Mask joining me after a moment.

"I like the look," he purred, crossing his long legs at the ankle. For a moment I thought he was complementing my lazy outfit of black leggings, fanny pack, orange tank top, and gray zip up jacket. I realized he was a focusing in on my casts.

"Yeah, it's getting a bit fetishistic," I conceded, lifting my injured arm a bit.

"Are you here to waste my time or was there something you need to discuss?" Black Mask prompted. I inwardly cringed; he really didn't have the attention span for small talk.

"It's Batman. He told me to tell you he's going to figure out whatever you're doing and stop you," I relayed the message quickly, adjusting in my seat so I was sitting up straighter. The man across from me tilted his head to the side and studied me through half lidded eyes. I dug my fingers into the chair's armrests to avoid squirming under his gaze.

"The bat broke your arm."

"Yeah. I mean yes Sir."

"Looks like you've got an admirer," he laughed, pushing himself out of the chair. "At least I have the decency to do all the damage in one go, seems like Batman likes to savor his victims," Black Mask observed as he stalked back to his desk. I licked my dry lips, nodding a bit. He seemed a lot less feral on his home turf. Not that I was going to take any chances and act up.

"Thank you for the message, Dollface. I'll be sure to send you and another broken limb after the bat when I reply," he leaned against his desk, a smile in his voice. Before I could properly panic the doors to the office swung open and a pretty young woman entered. Casting me a curious look, she continued over to Black Mask and wrapped her arms over his shoulders. Landing a plush kiss on the jaw of his mask. He in turn wrapped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her against him. Oh, maybe she had something to do with the change in the masked man's disposition.

"May I be excused Sir?" I asked warily. He took his attention from his woman and refocused on me.

"What, my company not good enough for you Dollface?"

"N-no! I'm sorry – "

"Then there's something I'd like you to see," he interrupted my panicked babbling.

I ended up following Mr. Sionis and his pretty girlfriend through the steel mill. I figured he was going to push me into a smelter somewhere but I could barely keep up with his leisurely pace, let alone try and run. We passed through a few sections of the building and rode down an elevator. I kept giving the couple I was with worried glances. When we exited the lift I nearly gagged at the odor of the basement. A thickly sweet chemical smell mixed with burning plastic. Trying not to breath too deeply in fear of burning my nose hairs off I was led down a hall and into another large open floor workspace. Surveying the room from a raised platform I paled, realizing what I was looking at as Black Mask laid a vice like grip on my shoulder.

"Think this is what the bat's referring to?" he hissed in my ear. I suppressed a shiver as I looked over the drug lab.

"Why are you showing me this?" I whispered. The pressure on my shoulder strengthened, his gloved fingers digging into my flesh.

"Wouldn't you like to see your base of operations?" he asked with faux sweetness. I shut my eyes and bit my lip, cutting off any ugly groans in my throat. "You'll be right at home around here, it'll be just like Blackgate. Hey, I'll even keep the bats out just for you," he laughed, slapping me on the back. I nodded again, not trusting my voice as I rubbed my eyes with my good hand. I shouldn't have come here. I should have just ignored Batman's threats. Now he was making sure I was involved so that I couldn't speak unless I wanted to incriminate myself. Not that I'd ever go to the police, didn't need another page added to the rap sheet.

"Llana if you'll give Dollface the grand tour I'd appreciate it," he growled, letting go of my shoulder in favor and snaking his arms around the tall blonde's hourglass figure. She smirked at the mob boss through dark eyes, "sure thing Roman, but I better get a bonus for this," she purred. I looked away, blushing despite myself. When the couple had finished murmuring erotic threats to each other Black Mask slapped Llana's bum and left us to the tour.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Llana was nice enough; she explained the drug making process in overwhelming detail including how to properly package it in Janus Cosmetics canisters. Unfortunately I was going to need a refresher on the names and purposes of all the chemicals as well as absolutely everything else she described. This was not my forte; I failed my math and science courses in high school. I only graduated because my professors knew how to take advantage of scared, stupid girls.

"Don't sweat the small stuff, you won't be working the sensitive parts of the process for a while. Newbies are involved in packaging, set up, sorting, and tracking inventory," she shrugged as we passed a workstation. Llana stopped, turning on a stiletto heel to face me. "Also not everyone who works here looks… good. Don't freak out and don't make eye contact unless you want to get gutted," she smiled sweetly. I gave her a thumbs up and we continued around the factory floor. Once again Llana pulled me to a halt and pointed to the windows of a raised office in the room.

"That's Roman's hobby room. Avoid it," her voice dropped a touch.

"Hobby room?" I asked. She gave me a look as if I were the most innocent stupid person she'd ever met.

"Weren't you in Blackgate with him? Did you just miss it every time?" she was incredulous. Screwing up my brow I thought over what had happened in the penitentiary. Super criminal dealings, threats, he liked to publicly torture people that disappointed him... Oh.

"Nevermind, got it."

Llana patted me on the head, fluffing my hair, "good girl." Trying not to feel gratified because of a woman who was probably my age praising me I saw the door to the hobby room cracked open and a familiar man emerged.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Croc rasped, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. Llana gave us both a curious look. "You two know each other?"

"Blackgate," Waylon clarified. The boss's girl set her hands on her hips, "makes sense."

"Well after I got _ditched_ by everyone Batman felt like paying me a visit," I leveled an irritated look at the scaly man. He rolled his eyes and began wiping flecks of red off his chest and stomach, "so what're you doing here, brat?"

"She'll be working with the cosmetics," Llana explained then winked in my direction, "when she's got a set of working grippers of course. Until then she'll be shadowing." We stood in a semi circle, eyeing each other up when Llana seemed to pep up. "Mr. Jones, why don't you continue on with the rest of her tour? I've got an appointment with my man to keep," she grinned mischievously. Croc huffed and nodded, allowing Llana to escape the drug lab and hunt down Black Mask. I looked back up as Waylon descended the steps from the playroom and continued on past me. "Hurry up, brat." I glared, hobbling after him.

"Hold on, I'm crippled," I grouched at his back. He stopped twenty feet in front of me, turning halfway to wait. "This is going to get annoying," he muttered to himself. When I reached his side he continued on at a snail's pace, allowing me to somewhat keep up with him.

"Thanks," I mumbled, ears burning. The big man shrugged on massive shoulder. "So Batman's got it out for ya."

"Yeah. I got home and he was there. Yelled a lot and left me lying on the floor with a broken arm. I had to wait till the next morning to get it checked out. Fucking insurance," I recalled bitterly.

When we entered the shipping floor Croc lazily pointed out things and people of interest, mentioning I should avoid Black Mask's enforcer and this area in general unless I was wanted to get crushed under shipping containers. Judging from rusty stains on the concrete floor that was pretty sound advice.

_**/AN:** Ugh fillers, sorry. I'm still trying to learn how to write well, hopefully all this exposition isn't killing ya D: And I don't know the etiquette for this on this site but if you've reviewed, followed, or are even reading this anonymously that's really amazing and I appreciate it so much :3**/**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

I started working immediately.

I'd never held down a 'real' job before but I'd wager it was pretty similar to working in Black Mask's drug lab. Every weekday I was expected to work at least eight hours and thanks to my busted appendages I spent most of that time sitting around keeping lists. This part of the factory was fairly lax; most of the workers were nice enough when they got their fix. Black Mask rarely visited this section other than to pass through to his play room. So that may have something to do with the calmer atmosphere.

I sat as far away from the chemicals and fume producing substances as possible while noting who took what from the supply closet. It was bullshit work but I would rather be here in the questionable safety of a thug filled factory than at home where a bat could just mosey on in. Trying not to doze off, I jumped awake when someone shouted for me. I looked up at a worker as he approached.

"Huh?"

"Come with me kid." I was too confused to put up a fight as he grabbed my arm and pulled me until we got to the shipping floor. He led me to what I'd thought was another supply closet before he pushed open the door, revealing a sewer hatch in the floor.

"Need ya to go get Croc," he shoved me towards the manhole. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall.

"Excuse me?" I balked, looking down at the porthole. "Down there?"

"Yeah, big guy disappears into the sewers every now and then."

"How does he fit?" I asked, staring at the sewer hatch. It couldn't be but three feet across. The man shrugged, "guess the guys pretty limber, ya know? Anyway, tell him we got some shipments to make and to hustle his green ass out back, now hurry it up kid." With that the worker hooked a metal tool into the cover and pulled the heavy thing off. Bracing myself with a few shakes of my good arm, I dropped onto my butt and scooted my legs towards the metal rungs leading down.

Maneuvering down the ladder turned out to be a lot harder than I had predicted. Slipping and falling a few feet before I managed to twist my good arm around the rungs, I wheezed out a panicked breath. Still a few feet off the ground, I looked around the surrounding tunnel. Dimly lit only from the opening above me I couldn't make anything out. In the dark, humid, musk scented air I couldn't help but be reminded of the first time I encountered Croc. I'd been almost sure he was going to kill me then but now I was confident he wouldn't do anything like that. It's odd, how much can change in a few weeks worth of time.

"Croc?" I called into the dark. I couldn't be sure but there almost seemed to be a rush of warm air, maybe a breath.

"Are you sleeping?" I asked, suddenly worried I'd be waking a grumpy cannibal.

"I was," answered a grouchy voice. I smiled apologetically into the dark, readjusting my grip on the ladder.

"Sorry, some guy says you're needed for a shipment. Or something. What're ya sleeping down here for anyways?" I chatted. Croc's large shape shifted into view, one heavy hand landing on the ladder near my stomach as he leveled a sleepy, irritated look at me.

"Ain't none of your business. Hurry up," he grunted, jerking his chin towards the open manhole. Extricating my arms from the ladder I began carefully pulling myself upwards, slipping a whole lot. I was so focused on not falling to the wet floor I jumped when Croc cupped a hand under my bottom and pushed me up through the opening. Blushing, I quickly dragged myself through and grabbed my crutch, getting to my feet. I watched in fascination as the huge man emerged from the opening, first his head and right arm, then his left arm and the rest followed. It didn't even seem possible something that huge could fit through something that small. Realizing what I'd just thought, I spun and marched away hoping he wouldn't see my dumb red face.

"The guy said to meet him out back. Have a nice day," I called without looking back. When he stepped in front of me I tried to veer off in another direction but he blocked me with an arm.

"What're you keeping from me?" he hissed. I froze in place, all color draining from my face. Looking up into his narrowed golden eyes, I gaped and floundered while looking for an excuse.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He growled through his chest, making me jump. "I don't play games, brat," he threatened. Looking everywhere but his face I desperately searched for something to say, besides the truth. I was just feeling a little too aware of him.

"I wanted to ask you to sign my cast but I thought you'd think I'm stupid," I blurted, locking onto his eyes. For a moment he said nothing and continued to glare, then he snorted and headed out towards the back of the shipping floor. Breathing a sigh of relief I shuffled back to my spot in the drug lab and continued on with my day, taking stock and putting sticky notes for which barrel of Janus Cosmetics went where.

The workweek went by slow. I almost wish I could do something more interesting and hands on than just sit in the back and get headaches from all the fumes. At one point I watched a chained trailer being unlocked and felt an intense longing for my old jailbreaking career. I glared down at my injured arm, flexing my fingers and toes as the doctor had instructed. It'd be months before things would be back in working order. Fucking thanks, BatAsshole. Until then I'd be stuck here in the drug lab and when I healed I doubted Black Mask would do anything but use me as his own personal tool. I really shouldn't have taken that job before Blackgate. If I knew now what I knew then I would've just taken a bus to Metropolis and treated myself to a month long vacation there.

I must've fallen asleep at some point because I woke up to something tugging on my leg. Frowning, I tried to pull my limb away as I reentered consciousness.

"You're messing it up," Croc snapped. I blinked rapidly, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. He sat on the floor beside me, his huge hands dwarfing both my leg and the Sharpie he was doodling on my cast with. I waited in a state of sleep-induced thoughtlessness until he finished his work and released my leg. Twisting the limb in front of me I saw a poorly drawn crocodile, chubby looking thanks to an oval shaped body and short fat appendages.

"That is so cute," I mumbled, trying to lean in closer to get a better look at the fat reptile on the top of my foot and ankle. Waylon huffed. I grinned up at him, warmth constricting my chest, and he looked away sharply. He almost looked embarrassed.

"Aren't you two cute together." My smile dropped. Black Mask was standing over us, hands held behind his back. Suddenly I was uncomfortable sitting on the ground. Croc must've felt similar, as he stood up and dragged me to a standing position using my jacket.

"I'm sending you to get a gun shipment, Croc. About time we get some new cold steel around here. And Dollface," Black Mask addressed me. I stood at attention, albeit a bit unsteadily without my crutch. "You'll be accompanying them. Just like old times," he laughed.

As he filled Croc in on the details my stomach ran cold. He was testing me again. Why? I haven't done anything to piss him off, at least I don't think I have. Then again this was Black Mask, the man didn't need a reason to want to bury me alive. The reality was I needed a reason to still be valuable in his eyes if I wanted to stay alive, and with my only talent squandered thanks to my injuries I was looking more and more like used goods. Shaking my head, I caught the tail end of Black Mask and Croc's exchange.

" – Dock E. The exchange will be at four, don't fuck it up," the boss growled. Turning to me he shoved something into my chest and watched while I fumbled to catch it. "That's our end. Get the guns first, hand that over, and it's done. Mess anything up and I'll be sure to make your last moments enjoyable, for me at least," he whispered. I clenched my hand over the small piece of plastic, a USB. "Yes Sir."

"Good. Now get out of my face," he dismissed us with a wave of his hand and continued into his torture room, two of his masked men dragging a screaming thug in clown paint in after him. I looked up at Croc, feeling weary.

"He's trying to kill me off."

"Are you going to let him?" Croc didn't seem too bothered.

I paused, rolling the question around in my head.

"Maybe it's my only way out."

_**/AN:** DOUBLE UPLOAD TODAY WHOA **/**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Croc was avoiding me.

I'd decided to spend the rest of the day at the mill instead of going home and coming right back. I thought it would give me some time to hang around and ultimately pester my big green scaly friend, but every time I found him he'd wander off or talk to me in one-word sentences. Unable to keep up with his huge steps I ended up sitting by myself and kicking a nearby crate in frustration.

Even later when I was squashed into the back of the SUV, practically stuck in his armpit, it was obvious he was trying to avoid me. The weapons deal group had taken two vehicles, two guys rode with Croc and I while six more were in the accompanying car. Adjusting my crutch so it wasn't jabbing me in the chin or Croc in his leg, I asked what time it was for the millionth time.

"The clock is right there," Croc snapped, glaring at the digital clock in the dash. I squinted up from where I was wedged against the door. "Does it look like I can move to see it with your fat ass in the way?"

Dead silence.

"Look who's talking," the cannibal shot back. Then men in the front seats exchanged anxious looks.

"Excuse me I'm at a totally normal weight, unlike you," I snapped, jabbing my cast-covered elbow into his side, "tubby." Even stuffed up next to him I craned my neck to glare, he met me with narrowed eyes.

"That's not what your ass says," he retorted, making me shriek in fury when his huge clawed hand pinched my thigh. An immediate struggle ensued. I tried to smack him away and called him nasty names while he coughed his stupid laugh and continued poking me in the stomach. Sure I'd gained weight since I'd met him, but we'd met while I was starving in Blackgate. It would be weird if I hadn't gotten a bit fatter since getting out.

"Ugly bastard!"

"Stupid."

"I'm going to turn you into a pair of shoes."

"Is there enough of me to cover your big ass feet?"

"My feet are size fives, they're tiny!"

"Coulda fooled me." By this time the men in the front seats were both trying to keep a straight face while Croc continued to have the time of his life jabbing me in the side. Grinding my teeth I managed to grab one of his clawed fingers and hold onto it, "why are you avoiding me?"

"You're not wearing a vest." For a moment I was completely thrown for a loop. What?

"I'm going to put it on in a minute – don't change the subject!" I shouted. Huffing he pulled his finger out of my grip and reached in the back of the car. When he brought back the bulletproof vest and pulled it on over my head, I just stared at him in shock then began trying to shove him off again.

"I can – fuck, stop – do it myself! What's your problem today, huh? Is it something I did?" I begged him for an explanation. He didn't say a word but the irritated growl in his chest remained as he reached around me to Velcro the bulletproof vest into place, even lifting my arm in the sling away. I continued to glare up at him even while he remained leaning over me, pressed into my side. His musk was thick this close, staining my clothes with the scent. The driver cleared his throat.

"Uh, i – it's time guys," he feebly called back. Croc remained pinning me for a moment longer before clicking open the door behind me and getting out on his side. Flipping off his retreating back, I scooted out of the vehicle and swung along on my crutch towards where the rest of Black Mask's men had gathered. I could feel Croc standing behind me. Everyone in the group had a gun; the big ones that I'm pretty sure were some sort of rifle. Collectively we moved to meet Penguin's men, and I almost stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of a familiar face.

"Loose Lips," I hadn't meant to say it out loud but the other man clearly heard me, tilting his head and shooting a greaseball grin in my direction.

"Well if it ain't Dollface! And would you look at that, Croc too. I have got the biggest case ah déjà vu right now," he shouted. I couldn't help cracking a smile, he was such a like-able bastard. He clapped his hands, "alright let's not waste the lady's time, bring 'em out." Penguin's men brought out a few sealed wooden crates, dropping them in the no man's land between our groups.

"Pop 'em," commanded the Black Mask goon in charge of our group. Another one of our guys stepped forward with a crowbar and cracked open the crates. Sure enough, each was filled with straw and firearms. Mostly firearms. My crew's leader nodded, waving me forward. I shuffled forward and held the USB out, wobbling a bit. Loose Lips grabbed me along the side, helping me stabilize as he plucked the piece of metal and plastic from my fingers.

"I heard Batman did a number on ya, didn't think it was true though," he tutted, frowning at my fucked leg. I shivered at the memory but played it off as a shrug while I grabbed at my crutch.

"Yeah, he doesn't like me very much. So, that's a wrap?" I asked, glancing between the two groups. When everyone seemed happy I began shuffling away but ended up getting my hair fluffed up by Loose Lips before he chuckled and escaped. I don't usually give a shit about criminals but I hoped Leblanc would live long enough to retire from this line of work.

While both groups retreated to their vehicles four canisters of tear gas exploded. Gunshots and shouts erupted through the burning fog, I tried to cover my mouth and nose with my sleeve but it was too late. I was already coughing and barely able to see. It wasn't until I heard the scream that I started to panic.

"It's the bat!"

_**/AN:** this was my favorite chapter to write for totally obvious reasons**/**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

There's no way he was here for me. It was just a coincidence; only an idiot would go to a weapons deal and not expect the feds or Batman to show up. Guess I'm an idiot, I'd just thought Penguin's men would shoot us full of holes or the GCPD would pop out of the gun crates in the worst case scenario.

"Everybody out!" someone bellowed. A stream of gunshots followed by a choking shriek accompanied the command.

Croc was snarling but I couldn't find him through the white gas.

Someone ran buy and knocked the crutch out from under my arm, sending me to the asphalt where I stayed and feebly wrapped an arm over my head. Gagging into the gas I heard the first sounds of Batman's attack, heavy strikes and breaking bones. It's happening again. This time he's going to find me and finish the job. A body dropped like stone next to me. Tears from the gas and absolute fear poured down my face as I screamed.

I crawled forward away from the man and whoever had sent him to the ground. Scraping my fingers I clawed across the concrete, awkwardly using my opposing knee to drag my weight. When I was lifted away from the ground by my vest I looked up hopefully for Croc and instead made eye contact with a set of glowing lense covered eyes and gas mask poking out from under a pointy-eared cowl. A shriek tore out of my throat as I thrashed in his grip. He tried to keep a hold on me but I got one weak kick at his armored gut. He didn't even react, his grip pulling the vest up to the bottom of my ribs. Random gunfire exploded nearby. I choked on my own cries as something burned into my abdomen. Looking down through swollen watery eyes as red bloomed through the front of my shirt. Batman looked down just as a clawed fist smashed into his head. I landed on my back, gagging and coughing while I tried to touch my stomach. Forcing a shaking hand against my wound I felt my legs going numb. Trying to catch a breath through the dissipating chemical fog and my own winded body, I had no idea what to do.

Laying on my back I could hear the nearby scuffle and continuing panicked gunshots. Concrete cracked under Croc's errant strikes, his animalistic roaring getting cut off from Batman's hits. Gasping for breath I rolled to my side and began inching away from the fighting. Unable to spare a free hand for my wound I could feel a rush of blood curtaining my stomach with every movement. Suddenly I was hooked under my arms and dragged backwards into a car. Blurry eyed, I managed to yank my legs into the car as the person who'd dragged me slammed the door shut.

"Stay with me Doll. Let's move it Terry," the man above me shouted at the driver. Blinking through irritated eyes I looked up at the man. "Loose Lips?" I rasped. He smiled weakly. "Yeah baby, c'mon now we'll get you fixed up you just gotta stay awake," he urged, gripping my bloody hand. I tried to focus in on his face but my vision kept blinking in and out.

"What about Croc?"

He didn't hear me, instead grabbing at something that may have been a walkie-talkie and shouting into it. I registered he was smacking the side of my face but I couldn't bring myself to care. My vision fuzzed out along with reality.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

I woke up after my wounds had been treated by one of Penguin's men. Two bullet wounds, one that had grazed me and ripped a deep line into my gut and another that had left the slug imbedded in my hip. The 'doctor' didn't say much in the way of damage, just instructed me to move carefully and drink plenty of liquids. He'd taped some gauze over the stitches. Hopefully after getting the slug out, but he kept dodging the question when I asked. Suspicious.

So I had unveiling another set of puckering scars to look forward to.

Inspecting the room the strange oval doors, metal everything, portholes, and exposed piping all led me to realize I was on Penguin's ship. I'd heard rumors that he was using the Final Offer as a criminal base but it had all seemed so outlandish. Shows what I know. I almost yelped when my caretaker smacked a clipboard in one of the exposed pipes running above a sleeping Loose Lips. The goon jumped awake, beanie flopping to the side as he got to his feet.

"She's all yours, now get her outta my office," the doctor guy snapped. My somewhat friend nodded and pulled my arm over his shoulders, leading us out of the room. I bit back a groan. I may have had the wounds stitched up but that sure didn't do shit when it came to the pain. "Where're we going?"

"Ah, y'see we gotta give these reports to Mr. Cobblepott when things go south and he's interested in talkin' to ya," Loose Lips explained. I didn't hold back my groan, making the thug snort. "He ain't that bad, Dollface. Just don't piss 'im off and it'll all blow over."

I kept my mouth shut, not trusting the angry, scared nonsense that wanted to bubble out. Leblanc led us along the boat through corridors and elevators until we entered a plush office. The room was coated in animal furs and trophies; strange artifacts littered the gigantic fireplace's mantle and the huge desk across the way. In one moment of slackjawed stupidity I wondered how Penguin had a fireplace on a boat. But then I remembered it was Penguin we were talking about. Said man was lounging comfortably on a plush red loveseat with two beyond beautiful women in tight skirts throwing their arms around him. He puffed a cigar, looking me over.

"This Dollface?" he asked. Leblanc nodded, "the one an' only, Mr. Cobblepot."

"I hear our men ran into a bit of trouble at the docks," he said through his thick English accent. I shrugged against Loose Lips, nodding, "yes Sir. Batman showed up at the tail end of things."

"Ah, how unfortunate. That twit's really looking for a good skinning if you ask me," he stated more to himself than anyone in the room, yet his girls purred their approval. Penguin turned his attention back to me, "so how about it then, love. What've you got to offer me for my good services to you." I blinked.

"What?"

"Well the ways I see it, my men are the reason you're alive and all stitched up. Bit of an I scratch your back and you scratch mine type of situation."

"I'm sorry Mr. Cobblepott, I'm not sure if I know anything you'd consider valuable," I admitted, a thread of fear tightening around my heart. The older man scoffed, readjusting in his seat so he could point at me with his cigar.

"Listen here girl, you either give me some information or I'll make sure you're in the next pit," he growled. At the mention of the pit I felt Loose Lip's grip on my side tighten. Whatever it is I obviously need to avoid it. Anxiously I thought over everything I'd overheard in the past few weeks.

"Black Mask's got it out for Joker."

"Are you going to tell me about how Sionis sells drugs next?" he laughed. I winced. Okay, when in doubt: half truths.

"Some guy calling himself Nigma has been gathering information on Gothams' crime bosses, you included. He's got informants and bugs everywhere," I choked out. Sure this was a bit far fetched but all I needed was to get off the ship once and I could try and avoid Penguin's clutches. Penguin's face darkened, something striking a nerve with him. I gulped.

"He's getting the dirt on everyone?" he asked warily. I nodded, thankful that my wobbling knees were probably being attributed to my weak balance. "Well that is interesting. What else do you know about Nigma?"

"Not much, Mr. Cobblepot. He works primarily alone. And Batman's after him," thinking quick I added, "he probably knows something Batman doesn't want found out."

"Darling 'probably' is not the word I want to hear before a critical bit of information," he sighed, leaning back into the loveseat. He became very pensive, staring hard into an impossible distance before clearing his voice.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Dahl. Take her back, Leblanc," Penguin ordered. Both Loose Lips and I chirped a simultaneous, "thank you Mr. Cobblepott," before we left the room.

The whole way out of the Final Offer had Loose Lips trying out his new comedy routine on me. It was really hit or miss, the majority of it leaving me forcing an awkward smile and a little of it making me gasp and grab at my stitches so they wouldn't burst from laughter. Eventually, with the morning sun now well over the horizon, the thug helped me into a cab and gave me enough money to cover the fare. I rolled down the window.

"Do I owe you for this? I feel like I owe you," I asked, rubbing my tired eyes. He grinned, shoving his hands into his parka.

"Nah, we'll call it even for distractin' the bat from throwin' me into another Christmas tree back at Blackgate," he grinned. I snorted, shaking my head, "see you later then Loose Lips."

"Yeah I'll see ya around too, Dollface. Oh, say hi to ol' big green an' ugly for me," he called as he retreated back to the ship. After telling the cabbie my home address I tried to relax in the back seat and watch the streets of Gotham go by.

.

.

.

_**/AN: Boop, replies!  
**__**cleareyes25:** Do I hate Dollface? Nah, but I'll admit I thought about doing something to result in her losing an eye in this scene (I'm a monster but I think eyepatches are cute and adding more irony to her nick name is soooo tempting). It's just when playing the games it's clear that Batman doesn't go out of his way to keep the thugs from becoming critically injured. Putting a small, weak individual in the position of a burly street-toughened criminal would realistically result in her getting **hella** messed up. Also I think being in casts adds another aspect of weakness and somehow cuteness to her. Sort of makes me feel protective over my weak baby cakes, hopefully Croc feels the same way -w-**/**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Croc was probably fine. I'm confident that when I get back to the mill he'll be there. Definitely. There's no way he'd let Batman take him in that easy. No way. Really, I had no reason to be worried.

I paid the cab fare and limped towards my apartment. Batman knows where I live, he knows I have connections within the Gotham crime world, and I'm sure my home wasn't safe anymore. I'd just grab some things and go. At least that's what I had planned, however after I had packed up a few clothes, pain medicine, laptop, and some toiletries in my book bag I ended up showering and taking a break on my futon.

"Get up Bambi." I jerked awake, heart slamming in my chest and looking around my shitty apartment in a panic. Throwing my bag on I lamented my lost crutch and stalked worriedly through my home. Was there somebody here? Chancing a look out my window, irrationally worrying that Batman was outside fucking with me, I caught site of two GCPD officers leaving their squad car and entering my apartment complex.

"Fuck," I choked and shuffled as fast as I could out of the room. Dragging my gimpy self along with the help of the water stained walls I got to the stairs and practically fell down the flights in my haste. Emerging from the stair access door in the lobby I was pushing through the entrance doors when I heard them.

"Police! Get on the ground!" the officers hollered from the elevator doors. Letting out a loud whine I bolted down the street. What was the point of running? I can't outrun or out maneuver anyone in this state. Huffing and limping as fast as I could I heard more police screams and running boots fast approaching.

"Bambi!" I jerked towards the sound of my name, spotting a yellow cab door popping open. I didn't even think, just launched into the cab. One of the police officers had caught up and grabbed my casted leg. Screaming, I flipped onto my back and slammed my good foot into his stomach, sending the cop stumbling away before I jerked the door shut and my backseat companion shouted for the driver to go.

Gasping for breath and watching as the officers quickly faded out of sight, I turned to the other person in the cab. Eddie grinned back at me, "morning, cupcake."

"What," I continued to gasp for breath, "did you bug my apartment?"

"Myself and others," he shrugged. I nodded, wiping sweat off my brow. So it was his voice I'd heard.

"Okay, I'll forgive that because it helped, so thanks," I conceded. Eddie rolled his eyes; "I don't need nor want your permission for my hobbies, Bambi."

I didn't bother responding and just slouched into the back seat. "You know before all this shit with super criminals my life was pretty easy," I said.

"Amazing how our lives are so malleable when it comes to the touch of others," he agreed. Staring out the window I saw we were getting closer to Sionis Industries.

"Am I getting dropped off?"

"I certainly don't have any more need of you today." I turned to Eddie, noting how odd his choice in eyewear was. "I guess I owe you," I observed as the cab pulled to a stop. He smiled to himself, leaning an elbow on the door and resting his cheek in his hand, "it's good to see you've retained basic logic. See you around Miss Dahl." I bid him goodbye and climbed out of the vehicle, dumbfounded by how the last few hours had worked out so smoothly. Tightening the straps on my shoulders I waved as Eddie's cab pulled away before turning and shuffling towards the mill. My gut tightened at the thought of what this weird guy would need from me later, but I pushed the thought from my mind. The inevitable would come to pass I suppose there was no point in worrying about it. Instead I could panic about the state of Black Mask after the botched weapons deal. I tightened my jaw; hopefully he wouldn't take the frustration out on me.

I don't know what I expected when I entered the steel mill, but the complete desertion was not it. Hesitating in the entranceway, I wondered whether Black mask had been tipped off to a raid and skipped town with his men. No, he was too proud to abandon his own building. Something heavy thudded, making me jump. It was coming from the shipping floor. Taking a deep breath I approached that side of the building and pushed through the doors.

Chaos.

Llana and Black Mask stood inside of the doorway observing the mayhem. The scaffolding erected to hold steel girders, crates, and shipping containers was torn and knocked to the floor. Men scrambled through the equipment, some of them taking up positions on the broken towers and watching as Croc and Black Mask's enforcer wrestled amidst the debris. Dry bags of cement mix had been torn open, dust clouding the air as martial-artists circled the warring men. I slapped a hand over my chest, sighing in relief that everyone seemed okay. Black Mask glanced over his shoulder at me.

"While I live and breath, it's Dollface," he snorted. I nodded, glancing between he and Llana when she tossed me a charming grin. "Skipping out on us?"

"Sorry Sir, I was injured during the deal and had to get patched up before I came back," I apologized. My boss shrugged one shoulder, turning back in time to see Croc bellow and lift the huge enforcer off the ground. Just when it appeared he'd rip the man in half, one of the thin martial-artists darted forward and struck the green assassin in the gut, forcing him to drop his prey.

"Croc's been acting up since your lot came back. I couldn't give a damn as long as my guns got here but he's making a mess," Black Mask complained. I spared the offending man a worried look as Llana slapped me on the back.

"As much fun as I have watching all this, he's ripped up a few too many of Roman's men. Please calm him down, darling," she smiled at me. I blinked at her. "What makes you think he won't just rip _me_ in half?" I asked, looking down at the obvious blood lust. Llana rolled her eyes and shoved me towards the chaos with a surprisingly powerful push.

Stumbling down the stairs I ended up pitching forward and flopping onto my stomach. Ignoring the couple's chuckling I pushed up off the pile of shattered wooden palettes I'd landed on. Croc was swinging his heavy arms around, trying to claw the acrobatic martial-artists as they darted just out of his reach. Taking a deep breath I got to my feet and tried to maneuver through the trashed warehouse floor, which only landed me on my butt again. I could hear Black Mask and Llana laughing their asses off at my clumsy struggle but I could really care less. Not getting accidentally killed by Croc was my main focus. Why was he acting this way to begin with?

I managed to get about ten feet closer before I tripped again and somehow wedged my cast under a girder. Fucking talent. Croc had managed to snag one of the Kung-Fu guys by the pant leg and was dragging the man towards his jaws. "Croc don't!" I shouted. His claws went slack just long enough for the man under his paw to skitter out of his grip. I jumped when he turned his wild eyes towards me. Before I could get another word in he'd moved impossibly quick, slamming his fists into the debris around me. I yelped, collapsing onto my back.

The bloodlust was evident in his wide eyes, the pupils dilated and focusing in on my own. I took quick panicked breaths as he drug a hand through the broken scaffolding near my head. Not moving in case it might provoke him. I licked my cracked lips.

The entire shipping floor was silent as he crouched over me, waiting for what he might do. Trying to ignore my own panicking heart, I reached a shaky hand up. The moment my fingers pressed into his knuckles, his eyes refocused. Croc leaned back and tossed the girder pinning me off before he skulked to the sewer access. I remained lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. What the fuck.

Forcing myself off the ground, I winced at the sting in my abdomen. Fucking bullet wounds. Looking back at the masked mob boss and his girl, they were both watching me thoughtfully.

"Go make sure he's under control," Black Mask ordered before he threw an arm over Llana's shoulders and led the two of them out of the warehouse. I groaned, rubbing dust off my face and headed over to the sewer hatch.


	21. Chapter 21

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**_

I don't know much about men. Aside from a few one-sided crushes and childhood friends I didn't have relationships with men. Fuck, even my dad beat feet before I was out of the womb. I didn't fare much better when it came to women if I were honest. But from my limited knowledge on people in general I'm pretty sure they needed time alone to calm down after outbursts. So, as I swung my legs into the open manhole, every part of my rationale was telling me that dropping down into a confined tunnel with a pissed off brooding monster man wasn't the hottest idea. I took a deep breath and blew my bangs out of my eyes, hooking my sore legs into the ladder and jauntily descending halfway down the ladder.

"Croc, Black Mask told me to make sure you're not being crazy," I called. This time I could see a dim lantern had been set on the ground on the other end of the tunnel, just before the bend. There was an audible huff.

"Get out."

"Sorry. Can't," I shrugged. "You still mad at me?"

A heavy growl answered back. I sighed through my nose. If he wasn't going to talk to me then I'd talk to myself. I'd done it plenty over the years.

"Batman tipped off the GCPD to where I live. I can't go home now. And he got me shot at the weapons deal, he held me up like a meat shield when everyone was trying to shoot him," I talked out loud, adjusting so I could half sit on the rungs of the ladder. "Loose Lips got a friend of his to stitch me up, so I guess it worked out. I don't know where I'm gonna live now though," I mumbled the last part, realizing my bag of salvaged goods wasn't going to do me much good if I didn't have a place to put it all.

"Anyways what were you freaking out over up there?"

"I wasn't."

"Then what were you trying to do, just piss off Black Mask by killing all of his men?" I asked. Croc snarled, lumbering around the corner and taking quick long steps towards me. I cringed when he slammed his huge hands into the ladder, jarring my grip. "You got something to say or you just wasting my time?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes. I held my breath, staring right back.

"Tell me what I did to piss you off," I whispered. He growled, my own chest echoing the bass of the sound.

"Not right now."

"I don't have anywhere to be. I can wait," I assured him. Croc groaned an exasperated breath. When he moved to the side, watching me expectantly I realized he wanted me to get down off the ladder.

"I don't want to get my cast dirty," I mumbled. He sighed an explosive breath, proving to me I was just as annoying as I imagined, before roughly grabbing me around the middle making me shriek. He pulled his clawed hand back sharply, "what the fuck?"

"I _just told you_ I got _shot_ earlier," I grumbled, lifting my shirt enough to show off my gauze. When he picked me up again he made sure not to put too much pressure on my wounds. With my legs pinned between his chest and forearm, I hooked my free arm around his heavily muscled neck as he moved through the tunnel. Rounding the corner I saw a set of mattresses set on the floor, which I was promptly dropped on. I bounced once when I fell and again when Croc flopped down next to me, resting his huge arms on his knees.

So, here I am in a boy's room. I looked around a bit, viewing the space in new eyes. I'd been in Croc's lair back at Blackgate when I'd taken his collar off. I burned a tad pink at the memory. Figures the only boy whose room I'd been in would be a ten foot tall cannibal crocodile man. I took of my backpack, tossing it on a small crate a few moments of silence went by I took it upon myself to fill in the void.

"So what happened with Batman?"

"One of the guys ran him over."

I snorted then yelped when Croc yanked my shirt up. I grabbed at his hand, trying to pry it off and blushing all the while. "Stop - " I sucked in a breath when his claw poked near my stitches. Using his free hand he shoved me onto my back and continued to glare at my exposed belly.

"Whatchya looking for handsome?" I wondered aloud, trying and failing to cover up any anxiety of being so exposed with humor. He glanced up briefly before returning to glaring at my stitches. I felt my stomach twist at his serious expression, I was more than a little nervous under his scrutiny. I knotted my fingers into my jacket sleeves and bit my cheek.

"You definitely got fat," he rumbled. I smacked his hand as he laid his palm across my stomach and chuckled to himself.

"It's barely been over a week since Blackgate, I doubt I've gained that much. Prick."

"Bitch."

"You not mad at me anymore?" I badgered. I'm persistent, what can I say.

"No. Now drop it," he warned, putting pressure on my stitches. Wheezing I tried to push him off but he was utterly immovable.

"Give me a hint about what it was so I don't do it again," I demanded, still squirming under his weighty hand. He continued pressing into my wound. I began to sweat, gasping and doubling my efforts to get Croc's hand off. For a moment I thought he was going to rip open my stitches, the irrational look in his eyes chilling me. Then his hand lifted and he turned away.

"You're vulnerable," he growled. Trying not to breath a sigh of relief I pulled my shirt down and carefully sat up. "Who did that to you?" he asked. I frowned at his back, "I don't know, there was tear gas. But they were aiming for Batman so it's mostly his fault."

"The scars," he snarled, shooting a scathing look down at me. I flinched, readjusting my clothing to cover as much as possible. "It's not that great of a story." When he remained silent I felt my resolve crumple. If he needed this to calm down then I might as well risk sharing. I couldn't let it control me forever, or whatever.

"I got kidnapped while I was out partying after high school graduation. From what I understand he'd drugged my drink and got me away before anyone knew I was missing. I ended up locked in a basement for three years. He liked to cut me," I confessed, tugging on a few strands of hair. "He did it everyday, sometimes for hours, but that's it. Just the cutting. Eventually I had it and attacked him, made sure he bled out before I got help," I said, and then added guiltily, "worse things have happened to better people."

From where I sat I could see the side of his face, the tensed muscles in his jaw and blazing eyes. It was nice, the idea that one man's actions could irritate Croc to that degree, almost like he cared about me. But the posthumous fury did little for my comfort. I didn't trust or relate to people the same anymore. I'd driven away friends and family for my own scared solitude. There was no monster left for me to hide from, just the echoes.

"I'm getting better with it but he's the reason I don't like contact. The guy liked to hold me while he cut, it was the only time anyone touched me for years. Anyways my time there's what inspired me to become an escape artist. I'm never getting put in that situation again," I stated firmly. When Croc didn't answer I zipped up my jacket and leaned back onto the mattress, pulling my hood up and over my eyes. "So… what about you, what about the scales?"

"Atavism. I'm reverting to the primal parts in my genes or some shit," he grumbled, "doctors think it's so interesting but they don't have to fucking live with it." I dug my fingers under the edge of my leg cast and scratched an itch. So that was it. He was literally a beast. Rolling onto my side I blindly reached out and touched his flank. Running my fingertips over the thick leathery skin and hard shards of scales, I couldn't help but smile.

"Looks like we both where our scars, right?" I snorted, tapping my fingernail against one of the glassier scales further up. I was greeted with a long rattling breath, "don't say stupid shit."

"But I'm getting better with my issues, at least with you. Look," I patted his bicep, "voluntary physical contact and I'm not even shaking," I declared boldly. I felt the mattress shift before my hood was pulled back enough so I could see. Croc had leaned back and on his side, supporting his head with one arm and knocking a glassy knuckle on my blue cast between us. "Just me?" he smirked. I felt my face burn pink.

"Well yeah, kinda. I guess I'm not panicking so much when people touch me now but I'm not as comfortable with them as I am with you," I shrugged a shoulder, hoping to play off the confession. I hate heart to hearts. But Croc, I don't know. Somehow he deserved to know he had someone that relied on him whether I'd ever admit that or not.

He stared at me hard for a time, his brow furrowed just a tad before he reached over and pulled my hood back down over my eyes. "Go to sleep."

"So what'd I do wrong earlier, just tell me," I couldn't leave it; I was a stubborn, horrible person. He groaned a heavy, hissing breath.

"You talked like you don't matter."

I blinked in the darkness of my hood, my stomach twisting almost as painfully as my chest. The sting of forming tears had me squeezing my eyes shut, biting my cheek. Someone would care if I dropped off the face of the Earth. Screw the basement; no one had said anything like that to me since I was in grade school. Grabbing my hood and yanking it down over my chin so he wouldn't see my trembling lip, I buried my face into the musky mattress.

"Thanks."


	22. Chapter 22

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**_

I was surprised to wake up and not be alone. Sometime in the night or day or whenever we'd gone to sleep I'd rolled so that my back was pressed along Waylon's warm side. He slept with one arm flung out above my head and the other on his chest, occasionally noisily clicking his claws over the scales there. Moving onto my back I ended up pressed even further into the male and finally understood how the hulking behemoth walked around without a shirt on during the absurdly freezing Gotham winters. It may've had something to do with no shirts in existence fitting him but probably had more to do with his burning hot body temperature. Even now with the weather turning to early spring there was still frost in the mornings and biting winds during the day. But snuggled up next to Croc I was comfortable, maybe even a little sweaty, without a blanket in the cold of the sewer tunnel.

I closed my eyes and feigned sleep for a bit longer. Listening to Croc's loud, heavy breaths I began to feel my eyelids get heavier. It's odd, I'd been living on survival instincts just to keep a pulse while I'd been in Gotham, but here tucked against a known cannibal in a secluded part of the world where no one was around to hear me scream I felt safe. Maybe I had just come to terms with my inevitable death. Or succumbing to some form of Stockholm syndrome.

I was startled from my thoughts when the solid presence at my side shifted. There was a grunt before the breaths returned to sleepy sighs. Cracking open an eye I saw he'd rolled onto his stomach, arms spread out lazily near his head. Wincing at the biting sting in my abdomen I got to a seated position and watched him for a bit in the dim light of the tunnel. The rise and fall of his back with every hissed breath caused light to glint off the subtly spiked shards of keratin embedded in his skin.

Intrigued, I found my hand trailing over the green glass like scales, idly rubbing my thumb at the skin between. I looked over his entire form, impressed as always at how slim his waist and hips were in comparison the rest of his massive frame. If he ever got Batman alone without his toys there'd be no chance for the bat. I snatched my hand back as Croc woke, pushing himself up and back onto his haunches. He rubbed his face and gave me a tired look.

"I wake you up?" I asked, my voice croaking with the remnants of sleep. He slowly shook his head, moving his huge hands to scratched at his neck then chest. Yawning an impossibly toothy and wide yawn, he clacked his teeth back together and got to his feet before gathering me up in one arm and lumbering through the damp tunnel towards the access hatch. I had my arm around his neck, surprised by the sudden and comfortable transport.

"Where you gonna live now?" he asked with half lidded eyes. I bit back a smile. Croc's not a morning person.

"I'll need to call the Broker. But first find some money," I said, dropping my head against his shoulder. The Broker was everything a criminal could want in a person, discrete, confidential, quick, and true to his contracts. Unfortunately he knew that and charged accordingly. With all these bat induced injuries my funding was drained and I doubted any of my bank accounts or credit cards were even accessible anymore if the GCPD were really looking for me. It was nice of Croc to let me spend the night with him but I couldn't keep forcing my circumstances on him.

Pushing the sewer cover off like it weighed nothing, Croc quickly pushed me through the opening and followed right behind. Standing with the aid of the wall I emerged from the odd supply closet to a still trashed shipping floor. Workers and thugs alike were at work clearing the debris but all stopped to watch as Croc and I exited his 'room' together. I grit my teeth and focused on limping past the rubberneckers. It wasn't any of their business, if they had the wrong idea I wouldn't correct them. If they had the wrong idea? Shouldn't I be more confident in that? I shook my head, dispelling the odd thoughts.

Croc and I separated with tired grunts. True to my word I made my way to Black Mask's office assistant to check he was free before clumsily entering the most uncomfortable room in the world.

"Dollface," he acknowledged without looking up. I shuffled until I was a few feet from his desk, trying to mask my labored breathing, "Sir."

"You need something?"

"I need a loan," I stiffened my spine, bracing for the worst. He set down his pen, one that probably cost more than anything I'd ever own, and steepled his gloved fingers.

"Convince me," he commanded. A wave of mental fatigue hit me. I could sleep until I died and still feel drained by this guy. Steeling my resolve not to be intimidated by his glittery wicked eyes, I pressed on.

"I proved my skill set to you at Blackgate. I can be an asset to you in the future and I have repeat clients that need my jailbreaking, I'll be able to pay you back. With interest," I reasoned. He didn't react for a time.

"So you think I'm in such desperate need of a little girl who can spring a lock that I'd waste my money on her while she's crippled and worthless," he mused. I didn't know what to say. I tried not to look anxious while sweat rolled down the back of my neck. He chuckled, relaxing back into his chair and folding his arms.

"What do you need the cash for, anyways?"

"Batman's been in my home and someone tipped off the GCPD about where it is. Batman probably fed them the tip. I don't have anything left after dealing with my injuries. I need to get in contact with the Broker and you know how expensive that guy is," I sighed, shoulders sagging.

"How long until you're out of the casts?"

"It's gonna be months."

He breathed a long, irritated sigh.

"You're more trouble than you're worth."

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"But you are worth something, so how about this: I'll put you up. Cozy little place, one bedroom, one bath, and paid off to be ignored by the GCPD. I'll house you but you're going to work for me, Dollface, and you will work for me for a very, very long time. My kindness doesn't come cheap," he hissed in his smooth as ash voice. I swallowed thickly, flexing my fingers in my cast. Did I even have a choice here? He wasn't going to offer a loan, and if he did I'd be getting a loan from _a mob boss_. That's how people ended up with baseball bats to the knees and smuggling balloons of heroin in their ass.

"Can I ask what I'll be doing?" I murmured. He laughed sharply, "come on kid, of course it's not going to be that easy. Who do you think I am anyways, asking me for a loan, some kindhearted Wayne?"

I shook my head, grabbing onto the strap of my sling with my free hand. "Sorry Sir, I'd like to take your offer if it's still, uh, available."

"Good. I'll have someone set you up. Now get out of here, I'm sick of looking at your face," he dismissed me. Retreating from the office and passing Llana on the stairs I couldn't hear her morning greeting or anything else over the thundering of my own heart in my ears. Dropping down to sit in a corner of the main floor I hung my head in my hand, staring sightlessly at my shoe.

I had a sneaking suspicion I'd just sold my soul.

I was moved in by the end of the day. By the end of the first week I figured out what Black Mask had me doing. Escape plans. I was almost flattered by the new work regime. Now that people were pushing for reopening Arkham Island Black Mask wanted to be prepared. So I locked myself in my new home, which turned out to be one of Black Mask's safe houses, and built escape plans around blueprints, proposed electronic locking systems, fifty feet of solid concrete, and with various constraints like armed guards or restricted access to certain items.

The safe house was a remodeled first floor in a rickety looking building. There was an enclosed concrete courtyard in the middle of the building that had a small gardening plot. The apartment interior was mostly red brick walls and concrete floors with plush rugs and furniture breaking up the space, the kitchen had a stainless steel island that doubled as a bar, and the only hints of the building's true owner could be found in the culturally diverse masks decorating the walls. The enormous bathtub and glass shower stall made up for the creepy masks, however. That and the California King sized bed.

I stayed there for a while. The time passed quickly no matter how hard I clung to the moment. I had my stitches out, casts off, and full mobility back before I could blink. The new housing situation did have some drawbacks, mainly the isolation. I was craving human interaction. The only time I get to speak to people was when one of Black Mask's men would stop by to drop off groceries and anything the boss wanted me to take a look at, but they'd never stick around for more than a few minutes or so.

When Croc stopped by to drop off supplies I lunged at the opportunity to get human contact. So as soon as he folded through the backdoor and went to dump the rolls of blueprints off on my desk, I slammed the door shut behind me and grinned menacingly at his back. All mine now. I saw a suspicious yellow eye narrow at me over his shoulder.

"What're you doing, brat?"

"Nothin'," I flashed a cheery smile before it dropped into a frown as I sniffed the air, "when was the last time you took a shower?"


	23. Chapter 23

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-Three**_

I scrubbed a sudsy brush over the broad expanse of Croc's back, forcing the bristles between the crannies of his scales. Croc sat nude, except for a white towel covering his lap, on a wooden stool in the middle of my courtyard, his feet in a massive metal basin I'd dragged out and filled with water and unscented body wash. I was positioned on a concrete ledge behind him, his waist between my knees while I helped him clean his back and he scrubbed his front. I'd changed into a pair of jean shorts and a bikini top, taking full advantage of the early summer sun. It had been an uphill struggle to get him here taking a bath but when I bargained with two deep-dish pizzas he'd caved.

"Make sure you get the dried blood out from under your claws," I reminded. He ignored me to continue scrubbing his pits. It had taken about a half hour of heavy handed washing to get the scent of rot and sewage out of his scales but it had been worth it. Leaning forward, I surreptitiously sniffed. He only smelled of his musk now, which while I found familiar and pleasant others seemed to find off putting and foul. To each his own, I suppose.

Leaning back on my hands, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun. It's been a while since Gotham had some nice weather, even longer since I was willing to wear something sleeveless. I grimaced, reminded of the spider webbing of scars I'd now exposed to the world.

"Why do you live in a sewer anyway?" I asked. The sounds of scrubbing stopped.

"Only place big enough."

"I don't know, Bane's pretty big and he doesn't live in a sewer."

"I _like_ the sewer," he growled, putting the conversation to an end. I cracked open one eye and swung my feet, planting them on his sudsy back. "Didn't mean to make you angry big guy."

"Why do you even talk to me?" his voice was thick and gravelly. Both eyes snapped open as I considered the back of his head.

"I don't really have an answer. For some reason I like being around you," I said thoughtfully, smacking my wet feet on his scaly back. "I don't know… at Blackgate I didn't know if you were about to tease me or eat me. I guess I started thinking we were friends. I don't got a lotta friends," more like none. Closing my eyes I leaned back against the brick wall behind me, knotting my fingers over my stomach and taking a deep breath of the sun flavored air. That confession wasn't half as humiliating as I'd thought it'd be. I heard the metal basin scrape against the concrete before Croc upended it over his head, the cold water shocking my toes so that I yanked my feet back to the ledge. The air cooled from a cloud passing over the sun.

"So what kind of pizza do you want – " I choked on my words when I opened my eyes and saw Croc over me. He'd moved silently, standing with his arms braced on the stone ledge around me, blocking out the sun and any exit. I folded my knees closer in, chest tightening as I looked up into his almost glowing yellow eyes.

"Friends?" he hissed, his teeth cutting into the word. I blinked up at him, suddenly too exposed in my summer wear as his heat touched my skin.

"Uh, yeah. Friends," I confirmed, nodding once while not looking from his eyes. I flinched when something connected with my shoulder. Glancing down I saw he was tracing my scars, his claws moving from my clavicle to my sternum. I blushed, immediately grabbing his hand and trying to push him off only to have his body press into my legs and force my knees apart. Now burning red I tried to move further back but was caught by the wall. When his hand pressed flat against my chest, his thumbnail scratching under my breast, I looked up sharply to call him off but stopped dead. The words died in my throat when I saw the look in his eyes.

"Gonna run away this time?" he murmured in a thick voice. I tried not to tremble, forcing a tighter grip on his wrist to keep myself under control.

"No, I'll stay here… with you, I mean. If you want?" I answered weakly. He regarded me with half lidded eyes, opening his mouth and lowering his head to the junction of my throat. He took odd breaths against my skin, tasting my scent. I shivered, hoping he wouldn't notice how sweaty I get when nervous.

"H-hey, uh –"

"Shut up," he griped, nuzzling into my throat. I spluttered as his teeth and lips tickled me, giggling and smacking at his shoulders. I knew I was ruining whatever sensitive moment we'd been trying to share, but I was stupid ticklish. Ducking around his jaw I planted a kiss on his throat, then bit down over the spot. I bit as hard as I could without breaking my teeth then leaned back with an embarrassed smile. Croc shook his head.

"What are you gonna do next time I get taken in?" he asked with lazy curiosity, his eyes half lidded. My face cooled despite his closeness as my mind refocused on his question. Mindlessly I pulled on the blade tipped thumb pressed into the flesh between my breasts.

"I _could_ break you out. But that depends."

"On what?"

"You gonna eat me?" I was trying to rile him up, I'm suicidal like that. Croc reacted accordingly, rolling his eyes and leaning away.

"Depends on what you mean by that Dollface," he answered, focusing to something off to the left. I frowned.

"What's that suppo – oh. Oh! _Shut up_," I shouted, blushing furiously. He coughed his stupid laugh while I kicked my way out from under him, burning red from my ears to my toes. Getting to my feet I gathered up the buckets, brush, basin, and soap bottles as Croc doubled over laughing. Marching back into my sort-of home I dumped the bathing equipment off and changed into a lightweight hoodie and pair of tights. I'd shown off enough skin today to last the whole year.

Eventually Croc recovered and came lumbering into the room, wiping tears from his eyes and shoving a phone at me. Of course, the pizzas. And he called me fat.

Two deep-dish meat lovers later, Croc had taken up residence on my couch and was finishing off all the alcohol he'd been able to find in the kitchen. I was munching down a big bag of cherries with a bottle of Yoohoo, my feet trapped on his lap while he thoughtlessly kneaded my calf. Two movies about a space outlaw in spectrum goggles later, I found my thoughts turning to our…relationship.

"Croc."

"What."

"What would you do if I got a boyfriend?"

"Eat him."

"Ah."

I knocked a cherry pit against my teeth as I considered our situation. We were friends; he'd even seemed to agree. I squinted at the TV, not paying attention to the third film where the space convict outsmarted a bunch of bounty hunters on a desert planet. I guess he considered me his property? For some reason that sat fine with me, made more sense than calling someone like Croc a childish name like 'boyfriend'.

I was beginning to nod off when Croc pushed my legs away and stood, leaving me in awe of his towering height once again. He stretched slowly, pushing his hands against his hips and leaning back until a few loud pops were forced out. He sighed heavily, settling back into his hulking posture.

"You going somewhere?" I asked, not bothering to get up. He nodded, reaching down to ruffle my hair, "yeah, got work."

"Oh. Well I guess I'll see you around?" I finished uncertainly. Croc grinned, giving my hair one hard yank as he made his way to the door.

"Sure thing, Dollface."


	24. Chapter 24

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-Five/EPIOLOGUE**_

I sat glaring at the TV, gripping my hands into tight little fists in my lap as the news anchor delivered her prewritten spiel.

" –_ack Mask and a number of hired criminals were taken into custody today by the Gotham City Police Department along with the cannibal, Killer Croc. An apparent long-term sting operation at Sionis Industries unearthed an enormous, and frightening, drug cartel based here in Gotham. Eyewitnesses report that the arrests did not occur peacefully and that Batman, Gotham's very own caped crusader, had a hand in subduing the suspects. Authorities deny such accusati _- " I stood up and crossed my arms, leveling a death glare at the news hostess.

Great. Awesome. Exactly what I need. Pacing the circuit of my apartment, I fumed. These fuckers. How goddamn dare they. And Batman. Always fucking Batman. Seriously when was that guy going to go fall down a well and die, I mean honestly how much more of a nuisance could he be? Growling, I stopped in my tracks as I passed the TV, staring at the unfamiliar building on the screen.

" – _octors hope to rehabilitate the so called super criminals in the newly reopened Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane in the upcoming months." _I frowned as the camera switched from the news lady to a doctor of said facility while images of a newly remodeled asylum showed over the screen. Did I know…? It hit me like a rock to the gut and I was scrambling over the couch and whipping open doors as I bolted to the study. Throwing blue prints to the ground and over my shoulder, I found it. A copy of Arkham Island's newly remodeled self, all facilities included. Smoothing the roll down, I bit my thumb and glared at the schematics.

I'd been working hands off for too long, there was no way I'd be able to get in and out of the old mental hospital right now. No matter how urgently I wanted to go after Black Mask and Croc I wasn't about to potentially incarcerate myself for decades just to scratch an itch. I glanced down at my right hand, flexing the nimble digits and stretching the limber tendons. Maybe I still had that magic touch, but what about getting back into the game? Do I really want to potentially subject myself to another Blackgate situation? And it's not like either of them would do anything to help me if the situation were reversed. I growled through grit teeth, fighting the plans already formulating in my head, pushing against the ideas of what I could do that would deem me mentally unstable and dangerous enough to get sentenced to Arkham. I couldn't do it. I'd be putting myself back into too risky a situation.

I should just wait here in this plush apartment and live clean. My eye twitched.

_Yeah right_.

**THE END**

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_**/AN:**__ Thanks so much for reading!  
Now that the whole thing's out, I can see I made some mistakes. The pacing was off, I'm more than sure there's a hefty amount of grammatical errors, but mostly I seriously didn't do a very good job with most of the characterizations.  
Besides Loose Lips, I think I did pretty great with him - I fucking love that guy holy shit. _

_I don't plan on doing a follow up to this story but you can bet money I'll write another Killer Croc story sometime. I want to go more monster movie with him but also cutesy friendship. The struggle. _

_Thanks again for reading, and to everyone who followed/faved/reviewed I am in eternal awe and embarrassment that anyone else liked this. You guys are great!__**/**_


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